iBreak the Rules
by itsactuallycorrine
Summary: Freddie Benson knows the unspoken rules of being friends with Sam Puckett, but to get through to her, he'll have to break them all. Now complete!
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly **

Prologue

He wasn't aware of when exactly the change took place, or if the feeling had been floating in his subconscious for years. All Freddie Benson knew for sure was every time he looked at her, he felt a thrilling mix of fear, attraction, and perhaps love.

Sam Puckett: his nemesis, his tormentor, his best friend. Of all the girls in the school he could've developed feelings for, his wayward heart chose Sam, the most obnoxious, vicious, funny, crazy, unpredictable, and complicated girl he knew.

Since sixth grade, the two of them had moved from being enemies to best friends, and now Freddie was ready to take that next step into something more.

He knew that Sam had to feel _something_ for him. No one could abuse him the way she did without strong feelings motivating her actions. After all, they did say there was a thin line between love and hate. He just needed to make sure he could get her to cross that line.

Navigating the tenuous bonds of their strange friendship would be no easy feat. Freddie knew it had taken him years just to get this far, and high school ended in nine short months. It could take longer to make any change to the status quo.

Especially since he would need to break every single one of the unspoken rules of being Sam's friend. When Carly had first told him about the rules, he'd scoffed. There was no way being friends with a blonde-headed demon would ever be important enough that he'd sacrifice his pride, self-respect and personal safety to follow the rules. But over time, Sam's abrasive nature grew on him, and he began to see the rules as a kind of game. And Sam's tough personality as the thick shell that covered a deep vulnerability, one he'd tap into in order to pull off this plan.

And Freddie was nothing if not a planner. He wrote up a list of the unspoken rules, and charted out each step he'd have to take to break down her defenses and get her to realize that they were meant for something more.


	2. Rule 1

_**Rule 1: Put up with Sam's teasing. It's her way of showing affection.**_

Like any other day, Sam Puckett burst in her best friend's apartment without knocking, dropped her bag on the floor, and headed towards the fridge. "Hey, Carls. Freddifer."

Carly and Freddie looked up from the TV where an episode of Girly Cow they'd seen fifty million times before was playing. "Hey, Sam. I thought you were at home cleaning your room?" Carly smiled and got up to supervise her best friend to make sure Sam didn't completely clean the fridge out.

Sam smirked as she turned with a bowl of cold chili in her hands. "Meh, I didn't feel like it, so I told my mom that it was Frothy's turn. When I left, she was still yelling at him."

Coming over to the counter, Freddie grabbed a handful of grapes that Carly had gotten out earlier. "Why would your mom think the cat could clean?"

"Why does your mom do anything? Oh, yeah," Sam said as she scraped the bottom of the bowl clean, "I forgot, 'cause she's a freak."

"Sam." She just continued to grin at his warning tone, and came over and stole the grapes right out of his hand. "C'mon, man!" Freddie lunged to grab them back, but Sam just laughed, ran around the kitchen island and jumped onto the couch.

Carly sighed, exasperated with her two best friends' bickering. "Change of subject! Since you're here, Sam, we can rehearse that turkey leg bit for iCarly."

Stretching out to take up the whole couch, Sam contemplated just pretending she had already fallen asleep, but realized that her grapes would then be prey for Freddie's grasping hands. "Alright, alright, Mama's coming." She sashayed past the nub again, tauntingly waving her still grape-filled hand at him. "Come along, little Fredward."

"You know," Freddie pointed out, following her up the stairs, "there's still a _whole bowl_ of grapes here. If I really wanted some that bad, the last place I'd take some was from a source that I'm not sure has ever been washed."

"Yeah, and I'd steal them all from you, too, dude," Sam shot back, vaguely hurt that Freddie doubted her personal hygiene. Sure, she didn't have the best manners, but she didn't smell or anything. Did she? "Face it, Fredwina, you and your puny nub arms are no match for me."

As they filed into the studio, Carly made an _ooh_-ing noise. "Be careful, Sam. Freddie's started working out. Your mouth is going to get you into a fix even I can't get you out of."

Sam glared at her supposedly best friend and popped the last grape into her mouth. "Carly, Freddie could work out for ten years straight and he still wouldn't have what it takes to beat me."

Freddie just smirked. "If you say so, Samantha."

"_Dude_." Sam took three threatening steps toward him, impressed when he didn't budge one step. But she saw it – that little flicker of fear and excitement behind his brown eyes that made it all worth it. "The name's Sam. And that's Mama to you." Then she raised her hand and thumped him right between the eyes before he could stop her.

Stepping back, she grinned. "And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I, Sam Puckett, always win-"

"Because it takes a grown man to beat you? You know, fight fire with fire?" Regret and anxiety immediately passed over Freddie's face, but it was too late. The mark had landed.

Sam played it off, scoffing and dropping onto her favorite beanbag. "I'm all chick, Fredbag, but I'm still more a dude than you'll ever be." Carly had remained quiet through all of this, but now Sam looked towards her and asked, "So, remind me again, Carls. What's the punchline behind this bit?"

Rehearsal moved on with no one mentioning the awkward exchange between the two frenemies. Sam shook off the funky, nub-induced mood and threw herself into the random humor of their hit webshow. But she couldn't quite meet Freddie's gaze as they called it a day.

"So do you guys want to stay for dinner?" Carly asked as they (mostly she and Freddie) cleaned up the splattered bits of turkey meat from the studio floor.

Nudging a piece of meat with the edge of her shoe from her spot on the bags, Sam shrugged, then stood and stretched. "I think I'm just going to go home and rescue Frothy. No doubt either my mom is still yelling at him or has tied a scrub brush to his stomach so he can clean as he walks."

Carly stopped, concerned. "All right. Text me later?"

Sam just waved her off and walked out of the studio, grabbing her bag from the living room on her way to the door.

"Puckett!" Freddie ran down the stairs, stopping Sam as she was half out the door. "I'm sorry about calling you a man earlier. You know I didn't mean it. I mean you are obviously…" He fumbled as she raised her eyebrows at him, and a flush started rising in his cheeks. "I just… Obviously I know you're not a guy. And I'm… well, I'm sorry."

Sam leaned against the door jamb, savoring this small victory of knowing that no matter how bad she'd felt hearing it, Freddie clearly felt just as bad about saying it. "No problem, nub. After all, I guess if I dish it out, I should be able to take it, too, right?"

He grinned at her. "I guess so. Or you could just not dish it at all, and we could avoid this whole sticky mess…? Nah, I didn't think so," he said with a laugh as she gave him a _get-real_ look.

"C'mon, Fredward." Sam pinched his cheek, maybe a little too hard. "If I didn't pick on you, how would you know I liked you?"

"You like me?" he asked in his best fake-surprised voice.

"Relatively speaking, for a nub. Don't let it get around." And with a grin, she was gone.


	3. Step 1

_**Rule 1: Put up with Sam's teasing. It's her way of showing affection.**_

_**Step 1: Don't react – at all.**_

After careful deliberation, Freddie was about 87% certain that this was the right course to take. Although the closer he came to acting on it, the further down his certainty level went. Closing his locker, he shook his head. _C'mon, Benson, it's now or never._

Moving over to the girls' lockers, he slung his bookbag over his shoulder, waiting for them to catch up so they could go back to Bushwell Plaza and start hashing out the next iCarly.

"Hey, Fredwardo." Sam noticed him first, and grinned as she haphazardly shoved her belongings into her locker. Her curly blond hair fell over her shoulder and she impatiently pushed it back as she had to lean on the last textbook to squeeze it in, and slam the door shut. "Done. Let's go get some smoothies. Drinks are on the nub."

She looked at him expectantly but Freddie just shrugged. "Sounds good. I've got my laptop, so we can start putting together a show outline."

Carly and Sam groaned at the same time; Freddie was always trying to make the show more organized and streamlined, but both girls hated dealing with the practical points. Of the two, Carly was far more willing to help support the structural integrity of iCarly. Sam considered it a fate worse than death, which she took no pains to conceal from either of her two best friends. "Dude, that is the MOST boring part of the show. Comedy shouldn't be structured, it should be free-form, spontaneous, artful." Pushing open the school door, Sam started walking backwards so she could smirk at Freddie. "Stuff you don't get at all. I swear, you're so uptight, your mom must have started starching your antibacterial underwear."

Fighting down the defensive reply that he wanted to shoot forward, Freddie struggled to show no reaction at all. "You'd have to ask her. She prefers to be alone to do laundry."

Carly looked shocked (impressed, even?) at his restraint, but he could see a flash of disappointment in Sam's eyes.

He'd figured out a few months ago that most of Sam's barbs were nothing more than a mechanism to get some sort of reaction out of him, a game she used to keep things at an even keel. It was really only when he lacked the desired reaction (or she didn't get what she wanted) that she struck out violently anymore.

At the Groovy Smoothie, after turning down T-Bo's numerous pitches to buy grilled cheese on a stick, Freddie opened up his laptop and pulled up the template he used to outline every week's episode of iCarly, while the girls started tossing ideas back and forth. This part of the process never ceased to amaze him, and baffle him. One of them would throw out the most random thing, and then they'd go back and forth, building and refining the idea until they had a hilarious sketch.

Before iCarly, Freddie had never really respected creative intelligence. After all, smart was smart, right? But these two – Sam especially – pushed _smart_ to a new level. Okay, so she wasn't great at school (especially since she didn't bother to apply herself) but she was really smart in other ways that counted. In creative – and cunning – ways.

And that's why he had to be twice as cunning if he ever wanted this plan to work.

The next day, after school and an iCarly planning session, the three were hanging out at Carly's apartment – like usual. Sam was raiding the fridge – like usual. Carly was telling them all about her day – like usual. But Freddie was waiting for the right moment to really push his plan into action. He'd gone almost two full days without smirking, jibing, insulting, or teasing. Already she was starting to give him considering looks, and was obviously becoming frustrated that he wouldn't play her little game.

But it wasn't enough.

In the middle of Carly's story about her history class – which neither Sam nor Freddie were in – Spencer called from the parking lot asking Carly to come help him. Leaving the two of them alone.

Sam sprawled out on the couch, propping her sneakers on the coffee table and making her way steadily through a gargantuan sub sandwich. Freddie took his chance and sat next to her, picking up the remote and flipping the channel restlessly, waiting for it.

She didn't disappoint. "Hey, Benson, I was watching that."

_Excellent_. "Whoops, sorry, here you go." Freddie switched it back, dumbfounding Sam enough that she actually set her sandwich down on the plate so she could stare at him.

"What's with you lately? Have I beaten you down enough that now you're like a whipped puppy?"

Freddie just shrugged. "Sometimes it's just not worth the effort to fight about something so small, you know?" He glanced over at her, and saw her watching him in return with narrowed suspicious eyes. He smiled a little. "C'mon, Sam, don't you ever get tired of fighting _all_ the time? It has to be exhausting."

She shrugged bad-temperedly and bit back into her sandwich. "It's better than being bored, which is what I am now, listening to you. So shut your trap and let me watch my stories." Her words were harsh, but Freddie knew he'd struck a chord. She kept slanting glances his way, and was taking much longer than normal Sam-speed to finish her sandwich.

He sat quietly until Carly returned. By the time the Shays made it through the door, Sam was practically squirming in discomfort, and immediately got up to help – something she never would have done had she burned off her energy arguing with him.

After a few hours (and a rib dinner) Sam left, and Freddie was getting ready to go home as well, when Carly stopped him.

"What're you up to, Freddie?" Freddie could tell that Carly wanted to be strict with him, but couldn't stop her lips from turning up at the corners.

As he opened the door, Freddie grinned. "I'll guess you'll have to wait and find out."

Carly leaned out into the hallway as Freddie let himself into his apartment across the hall. "Just tell me this: is it going to hurt Sam or your guys' friendship?"

"I hope not," he answerered, smile slipped. "But things will definitely never be the same."


	4. Rule 2

_**Rule 2: Let Sam express her physical dominance. **_

Sam ran up to Freddie in the hallway before school. "What goes on, Frednerd? All de-ticked, freshly pressed and ready to start the day?"

He smiled at her. Honestly, as infuriating as it was sometimes, she was starting to miss the smirk. "Mornin', Sam. How was detention yesterday?"

She shrugged. "At least it was with Howard and he's out of the room most of the time. What'd you and Carly end up doing?"

"Nothing." Freddie pulled out his biology textbook and started walking with Sam over to her locker. Sam wasn't sure, but this may have been the longest conversation they'd had without arguing. "Spencer needed her to help him hold a pin in place on his new sculpture, so I just went home."

"Aw, poor Freddie, all awone. What'd you do, play with Galaxy Wars dolls and macramé with your mommy?" Sam grinned and did a little two-step, certain this would get some sort of reaction.

Her hopes were dashed when Freddie simply shook his head and answered, "No, my mom worked the late shift at the hospital last night, so I just downloaded new music onto my PearPod."

Disappointed and restless, Sam dumped her stuff in her locker and slammed the door. She couldn't take it anymore, and had to confront him. "What's with you, dude? You're no fun anymore."

"What do you mean? I'm just the same old Freddie."

But she saw it – that little gleam in his eye that told her he was setting her up for something. Grabbing him by one arm, she twisted it behind his back and pressed his face into the locker before he could stop her. "Don't lie to Mama, Fredward. You're planning something – something big. Confess now and I'll go easier on you."

Just as she saw on his face that he was about to crack, Carly came running up. "Holy chiz, Sam! You're going to break his arm! Let go."

Dropping his forearm, Sam backed off, but her suspicions had been raised. That boy was up to something, and she would find out what it was or her name wasn't Saman- Sam Puckett.

Lunch was more of the same. Freddie refused to take the bait, and remained calm and placid no matter how much Sam teased him. Frustrated, she resorted to stealing his brownie right off his tray, and drinking half of his Peppi Cola as well. Still nothing. In fact, he even offered her half of his fries. (which, of course, she took – she wasn't stupid after all)

It wasn't until they were back at Carly's that Sam finally couldn't take it anymore. As Carly was pulling a tray of cupcakes from the oven, Sam gave in to her urges and wrestled Freddie to the ground, pinning his arms with all of her weight.

"Sam!" Carly nearly dropped the freshly baked desserts in her haste to save Freddie, but stopped to place them carefully on the island. After all, ruined cupcakes wouldn't help anyone. "What are you doing?"

"Tell me, Benson! Tell me right now what's up!" Sam glared down into his brown eyes, but she didn't see the normal fear and anxiety there. He wasn't even struggling against her hold, just lying there.

"I told you, Sam," Freddie explained calmly. "Nothing is up. I'm just trying to lead a more peaceful life."

Spencer snickered as he came into the living room to see what the fuss was all about. "And… how's that working for you, buddy?" he asked, leaning against the counter top and poking at the cooling cupcakes.

Carly slapped his hand away, then turned to her two best friends with her hands on her hips. "Sam, get off Freddie. Freddie, tell Sam – and ME – what's going on."

"No." Freddie and Sam stared at each other as they said the word simultaneously. Then Sam's eyes widened in triumph. "Ah-ha, so you _admit_ that something's going on!" Moving swiftly, she flipped him so his face was on the floor, her knees digging into his back as she grabbed one of his legs and pulled it violently toward the middle of his body. "Say uncle! Say uncle!"

After a few seconds of tugging, her strategy worked. "Uncle!" Freddie cried, tapping the floor. Sam released him and jumped to her feet, doing a victory lap around the kitchen, before she stopped before a kneeling Freddie.

"Now… CONFESS!"


	5. Step 2

_**Rule 2: Let Sam express her physical dominance. **_

_**Step 2: Physically dominate Sam.**_

Freddie sat back on his heels, his head spinning a mile a minute, as all of the moisture left his mouth and pooled as cold sweat in the small of his back. He strove to keep his face neutral as he worked out what he could say without raising her suspicion – or ire.

Sam, Carly and even Spencer (the traitor) watched him in anticipation.

He decided he'd have to get as close to the truth as possible for them to believe it, without giving the whole game away. "Did you ever think, Sam, that maybe I'm trying to change your behavior through my own?" Her face darkened into a scowl as the Shay siblings looked at each other in consideration. "Treat others the way you want to be treated and all that."

Sam scoffed. "That's chiz and you know it, Benson." But she kept her eyes on him steadily and he could see the wheels turning. She looked at Carly appealingly. "Tell him that's chiz. You know and I know that's not the reason he's doing this. He's messing with us both."

Carly tipped her head to the side and squinted into Freddie's eyes. He tried to radiate sincerity. "I think…" she began, then shook her head, looking at her best friend with wide eyes. "I think he means it."

Spencer chuckled. "It's kind of ingenious when you think about it. Friend training." Sam spun to face him and behind her back, both Freddie and Carly made slashing motions across their throats that Spencer didn't heed. "You know, they say dogs are the same way: you can control them through the energy you give off to them, and-" He was cut off as Sam screeched and rushed him.

Freddie, still kneeling on the floor, was just in time to lunge and wrap his arms around Sam's ankles as she moved to pounce on the unsuspecting Spencer. Sam landed on her knees – hard, which Freddie was sorry for, but he didn't have time to apologize, because as soon as she found purchase on the floor, she was squirming to get control of her own body, and his. And just like that, Freddie found himself pushed unexpectedly and with no planning, into his second step.

He knew if he concentrated enough and anticipated her moves, that he could take charge of the situation. He was now physically stronger than Sam; he just had to be as sneaky as her, too. Rolling her, he made sure to pin her arms to her sides and keep clear of her agile legs by pinning her hips with his knees. She lay with her back pressed against the Shays' kitchen floor, staring up at him in shock and mortification. Her hair was covering one of her big blue eyes, and he wanted to brush it back, but he knew if he showed any chink in the strong front he was presenting, she'd be more than willing to take the upper hand.

And then – well, then she found his chink. He was almost positive that she found it accidentally, but then again, he knew how devious her mind could be. With a few squirms, no doubt testing the reach of her legs while pinned between his, she succeeded in completely distracting him. Freddie felt a flush race up his abdomen and across his cheeks, and after a split-second hesitation, Sam smirked and continued to sinuously move her hips. By now, Carly was trying to mediate, as always, but Freddie couldn't even hear her voice over the blood pounding in his ears. He tried not to get mesmerized by Sam's gaze, but as her own flush started filling her face, it was impossible not to.

In a minute flat, Sam had once again regained the advantage, using the full force of her weight to flip Freddie. Instead of staying to gloat, she raced to her feet, her face nearly as red as Freddie was guessing his was. Carly kept talking, but Spencer looked from Freddie to Sam, and slowly started ushering Carly out of the room, for which Freddie was eternally grateful.

Sam cleared her throat, then turned to Freddie. "Were you being for real – all that talk about changing my behavior through changing your own?"

Freddie knew then he had two choices: either reveal his real motive and discard all of his carefully strategized steps, or continue in this vein and risk alienating Sam. He chose to go with the latter. Either way, he risked losing her friendship, but at least the second way, he could save his pride in the bargain. "I'm being for real. I'm not trying to _train_ you, or really change you. I just want to change how you perceive me as your punching bag, I guess."

"Look, Fredward," she said with a sigh. "That's just how Mama rolls. I don't see you as my 'punching bag', that's just how I treat all of my friends."

_Exactly_. But he said instead, "That's not how you treat Carly."

"It's different with Carly." She shook her head. "Carly's like Melanie: soft, girly, delicate. I can't beat her up the way I do you – that what makes hanging out with you fun! It's like a game. But," she added hastily, "if you tell anyone I said hanging out with you was fun, you're going to look back at the stuff I put you through in the last few years as paradise."

Freddie shook his head. "Sam, you don't get it. I don't want to be that kind of friend." He wanted to be more than friends.

Sam looked at him, and for a minute, Freddie could have sworn there was actual sadness in her eyes. Then she smirked. "Well, Fredbag, that's all you'll ever get from me, so take it or leave it."

"And if I say leave it?" He held his breath, and watched as her eyes widened in shock.

Then she brushed it off, and picked up her bag. "Whatever, dude. Look, you've been saying off and on for years that we're not friends, so I guess that's your choice." Then she smirked. "Just don't come crawling back when you realize that without me, your life is a boring, dry husk of tech talk and AV club meetings."

She walked out, closing the door quietly behind her. The quiet _click_ of the lock catching snapped Freddie out of his shock-induced paralysis, and panic began sizzling through his veins, popping behind his eyes. "Sam!" he called, struggling to calm down enough to turn the knob and follow her. Racing down the stairs, he prayed he'd make it in time before she walked out.

He caught up with her in the lobby, grabbing her arm and spinning her to face him. "Whoa, Freducation-" she started, but Freddie didn't let her finish. Instead, in a maneuver she'd inexplicably used on him many times, he pressed his shoulder to her midsection and lifted her, her long hair hanging down his back. He felt her hands grab in fear at his waist, then as the reality of her situation slowly caught up with her, he could practically sense the anger prickling throughout her small body. He swiftly moved towards the elevator that would take them to Carly's apartment as Lewbert screamed, "No lifting in my lobby!"

And with a pitch that could equal Lewbert's, Sam cried out, "FREDDIE!" as her hands began pounding on his back.


	6. Rule 3

_**Rule 3: Sam can take care of herself. Don't get in her way.**_

She was, simply put, going to kill him. Struggling to gain some advantage while slung over his shoulder, Sam utilized the one girly attribute that she had cultivated to her favor: her long, sharp fingernails. His cry as she dug in was triumph enough, but the added bonus of them running up the length of his back as he unceremoniously dropped her onto the floor of the elevator was the frosting on the cake.

Sinking back, looking for a tactical opening, Sam feigned checking her nails for fabric or blood. She had rapidly moved beyond the unthinking rage into a murderous calm.

She watched as Freddie tried to twist his head to survey his wounds. "I think you ripped my shirt!" He stared at her open-mouthed. She resisted the urge to close it for him with a firm foot to the jaw, and shrugged nonchalantly instead.

"What did you expect when you pulled that stunt? For me to submit docilely like the little woman?"

After a minute, Freddie chuckled. "Sam, you've put me in the same position at least a half dozen times in the last three years."

"No one ever said you're not the little woman in this relationship, Freddifer. Now what was so important that you'd risk your very life to stop me from leaving Bushwell?"

He was quiet for a minute, so quiet that Sam actually left off her plans of revenge long enough to nudge his leg with the tip of her shoe.

"I'm willing to take it," he finally said, his voice low enough that Sam had to lean forward in the moving elevator car.

"Take what?"

"The abuse, the teasing, everything. Your friendship… it does mean a lot to me." He looked up at her, and Sam struggled to avoid his soft brown gaze. It did… things to her stomach. "_You_ mean a lot to me, Sam," he finished.

The elevator finally stopped on Carly's floor and opened to show both of the Shays staring in confusion. "Going down?" Sam asked, pushing Freddie out of the car, and quickly hitting the door-close button to return to the lobby, without waiting for anyone's response.

On the way out, she was deaf to everything – including Lewbert – thinking about what Freddie had confessed. Okay, it wasn't a total shock. She and Freddie had gotten close over the past few years. For the most part, she considered him one of her best friends. Until, that was, someone asked her about it or made reference to it at all.

Passing some kid holding a bag of Fladoodles, Sam knocked the hat he was wearing to the ground and stole bag out of his hands, continuing her trek home. Contemplation made her hungry.

So why had Freddie changed his mind, really? And why had he run after her? And why did he need to bring it up at all? Weren't things fine before all this confusion and feelings-talk? After all, she had been happy, she hadn't killed him yet, and that's really all that mattered.

Tossing the now-empty Fladoodle bag, Sam pulled her phone out of her pocket as it signaled the receipt of a new text.

Carly: Hey, what's up? F wouldn't tell us what happened.

Sam contemplated for a minute. How much should she tell Carly? How much questioning was she willing to put up with about her feelings and Freddie's feelings, and blah blah blah? Not much, Sam decided with a snort, and answered: nothin F decided he'd take my beatings over not being friends

While waiting for a reply, Sam was distracted as someone jumped out in front of her a block from her own apartment building. Sam vaguely recognized the guy as a kid who'd graduated when they were freshmen, and went to move around him. He put his arm over her shoulder. "Hey, baby. You're lookin' smoking hot today. What say you and I take a little ride?"

Sam shrugged off his hold and tried to walk faster. "I don't think so, dude."

"C'mon," he cajoled, grabbing her upper arm, like Freddie had earlier, but much firmer, uncaring if he hurt her. Not like Freddie, who even in the rare times he swung back, never tried to actually cause pain.

"I said no, man." Sam really didn't want to get into it in this neighborhood, and pulled back, but he tightened his grip even more. "Look, I don't want to hurt you-"

The dude laughed – at her! Samantha Puckett! – and Sam lost it. Grabbing his forearm with her free hand, she turned swiftly and flipped him over her shoulder onto the hard concrete of the Seattle sidewalk. Cradling her foot in that delicate area between his legs, she smirked down at him. "Not so funny now, is it? Aw, man." She lifted one hand, surveying the damage to her hand. "You made me break a nail. Luckily for you, I've already utilized them today." With one last pitying look at him, she kicked him in places a man should never be kicked, and started towards her apartment again.

Finally, Carly's reply came: did he have a choice? lol c u 2morrow at school

Sam grinned and jogged up the steps to her place, picking up Frothy from the steps and ignoring his hissing and batting, and went inside.


	7. Step 3

_**Rule 3: Sam can take care of herself. Don't get in her way.**_

_**Step 3: Stand up for Sam**_

First period was gym for Freddie and Gibby, and it was an hour that Freddie usually looked forward to. Okay, he wasn't the tallest, most athletic or fastest guy, but moving around for the first part of his day was always a great way to clear his mind for the rest of the day's education. Unfortunately, thick in the midst of his plan, Freddie's mind was anything but clear, even after a tough game of softball.

In the locker room afterwards, Freddie pulled his shirt gingerly over his head, hoping that the wounds Sam's talons had created on his back hadn't reopened. Luckily he found his shirt clear of blood, but before he could head to the showers, he heard Gibby suck in a breath.

"Geez, man, what happened to your back?" Freddie turned to see Gibby (shirtless, of course, but at least it was at an appropriate time) wincing in sympathy.

"Sam, what else?" Freddie grinned, and started explaining the story of the past day's events, when a couple other guys crowded around.

One of them, a football player named David, chuckled. "Sam? As in Sam Puckett? Nice going, Benson, I didn't know you had it in you."

His friend Butch laughed along. "You'd think that a guy would come away with a few more scrapes and bruises, but you made it out with just the claw marks."

It suddenly hit Freddie what they were referring to – they thought him and Sam had…? "No, guys, you've got it all wrong," he began, but they just laughed and slapped him on the back – right on said claw marks – before exiting the locker room. "Chizz!" Hurriedly, Freddie started putting on his clothes, foregoing his shower, nothing but desperation on his mind as he struggled to minimize the damage before it got back to Sam.

Gibby was still standing there, a confused look on his face and still sans shirt, as Freddie raced out. "I don't get it," he said to the empty locker room, then shrugged and headed for the showers.

As he raced through the halls, he knew that it was probably too late. Guys started applauding and catcalling, and Freddie could feel his face turn beet red. This was a disaster, and Sam was never going to forgive him for this.

By the time he caught up with the girls at their lockers, he heard the death bell toll in his head. Wendy was already standing there, no doubt regaling the horrified girls with the tale. As she walked away, she smirked at Freddie and mouthed, "Call me." Confused, Freddie shook his head, and took a bracing breath that choked him when Sam turned her blue lazer-beam gaze on him. "I can explain," he blurted. "It was all a misundersta-"

Sam didn't let him finish; her open palm cracked against his cheek, and not in an I'm-teasing-and-this-is-part-of-the-game smack, but in a full-fledged you-hurt-me-and-now-I-hate-you slap that turned his head around. As she walked away to a chorus of _ooh_s from their audience, something within Freddie withered and he shut his eyes in despair. She never meant it, he told himself, but he knew this time was different.

The bell rang, dispersing the crowd, and Carly gave him a disgusted look as she moved past him. "Carly, wait." Freddie grabbed her arm, and though she shrugged him off, she still stopped.

"This was low, Freddie. I can't believe that you would do-" She shook her head, sadness and anger tightening her face. "I thought you and Sam were really friends now. Why would you lie about that?"

"I didn't! The guys in the locker room, they assumed that's what I was talking about, and none of them would listen to me when I tried to tell them differently." He put his hands up to his temples and gave a frustrated groan, then dropped his arms limply. "That's what I was trying to tell Sam – this is just one big misunderstanding that I will clear up." He blew out a breath, and met Carly's slightly softening gaze. "But now she won't even listen to me. She hates me, for real this time." He cleared his throat, hoping that the knot in it would subside and he wouldn't make this situation any worse by tearing up.

Carly folded her arms, and studied him. "You're really upset by this, aren't you?" she said wonderingly. "I mean, I knew you and Sam were closer than you guys always pretended to be, but the thought that she might not forgive you has you shaken, doesn't it?" She dropped her arms to put her hands on her hip, nodding sharply. "Alright, Freddie, I'm going to help you. But first - I want to know what's going on with you. The truth."

Gulping, Freddie looked anywhere but at Carly, until she grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. Startled, he stared into her brown eyes, and yelped, "I'm in love with Sam."

Sam managed to avoid Freddie all afternoon, but he kept an eye out for her nevertheless. According to Carly, guys had been giving Sam a hard time all day, and the girls were snickering behind her back. Freddie hated that, and he hated that he was the cause of it.

All in all, Carly had taken his announcement fairly well, and now she was dedicated to helping him win Sam – not just to fix this problem, but to actually help him complete his entire plan. It was funny, Freddie reflected now as he waited for Sam to show up at her locker, how a few years ago, it would've been Carly he was trying to woo, and now she was the one helping him with Sam.

He straightened as he saw Sam round the corner towards her locker, but frowned as he realized that the David guy who started this whole mess was following her. Pushing away from the wall, Freddie trailed after them, watching as David tried line after cheesy line, while Sam stoically ignored him. When the guy tried to wrap an arm around her waist, Sam shrugged him off, but Freddie saw red.

"Hey!" Both David and Sam turned, and Freddie realized that he'd better come up with something to follow that. "I don't think the lady's interested, so just back off."

The jock laughed. "I think you, me, and the scratch marks down your back know that Puckett's no lady." He gave Sam a look that was no doubt meant to be seductive, but instead looked stupid. "She's a wildcat." He turned his gaze back to Freddie. "What? You don't want to share, tech stooge?"

By now, a sizable crowd had gathered to watch. Freddie decided to take the opportunity for what it was worth. "It's not like that. Sam is my friend; the marks on my back were an accident. They aren't there for any illicit reason; I think most of you know that Sam wouldn't be caught dead involved with me." This caused a few chuckles to ripple through the crowd. "And while Sam might not be girly or delicate, she's still a lady, and she deserves your respect. And my respect." Freddie looked over at Sam, whose expression was unreadable. "And my apology. Sam, I never meant for this to happen, and I'm so sorry about what you've been put through today. I hope you can forgive me."

She watched him with consideration, but before she could answer, David scoffed. "Just because you couldn't close the deal, doesn't mean a real man couldn't. So what do you say, baby?" He crowded her against her locker door. "Want to use those claws for what they were meant to do?"

Intellectually, Freddie knew that Sam could take this guy. She could make mincemeat of him, have him crying for his mommy, in front of every one. Emotionally and instinctually, however, Freddie just saw one thing: this guy was making Sam uncomfortable and he had to be neutralized.

Grabbing the back of the guy's red letterman's jacket, Freddie pulled him away from Sam, and prepared to be in a lot of pain in a few minutes.


	8. Rule 4

_**Rule 4: Don't expect Sam to talk about feelings – hers, yours, or anyone else's. **_

Sam watched in horrified interest as if from outside her body. Freddie Benson, sticking up for her, Sam Puckett? What was going on? Freddie must've lost his mind; David topped him by at least six inches and fifty solid pounds of muscle. She and Carly would be scraping bits of nub off the floor for a week. The thought broke her paralysis and she moved to stop this farce, but a second too late as David landed a jab to Freddie's nose that immediately produced a loud _crunch_ and copious amounts of blood. Sam heard a girly shriek and was mortified to find that it had emerged from her own mouth, but it didn't distract either boy.

Freddie swung hard, a right hook that David caught on his jaw, then followed it up with a punch to the stomach that had the larger boy falling to his knees gasping.

Before he could be egged into getting back up, Principal Franklin came running from his office. "Break it up, everyone, break it up! Fredward Benson, David Schmidt, fighting in the hallway? What were you thinking?"

As he continued, the school nurse raced up and shoved him out of the way and began to tend to Freddie's nose. She set it with another sickening _crack_, and Freddie screamed a little, which made Sam feel better about her similar outburst when the break had first happened. As the nurse set an icepack to Freddie's injuries and moved onto David, Sam and Carly converged on their friend.

"Are you alright, Freddie?" Carly asked solicitously, laying a gentle hand on Freddie's shoulder.

He shrugged off her question and hand, and turned to Sam. "Do you forgive me?" he tried to ask, although it sounded more like "Do you forgibd me?"

Sam was bewildered; she'd never had anyone stick up for her like that. It felt kind of good. But what came out of her mouth instead was, "Are you out of your pea-sized mind, Benson? What were you thinking taking on a guy that big? All over some stupid misunderstanding?" Sam's confusion was making it hard to think, and the adrenaline of the last few minutes was wearing off, leaving her muscles feeling all shaky.

Freddie grabbed her hand and took the ice pack away from his face, his eyes dark and fierce. "It was worth it. _You_ are worth it, Sam. Do you forgive me?"

Sam had to look away from his intensity and her gaze landed on the melting expression on Carly's face. She could practically hear the "awwww" Carly was quite obviously suppressing.

Carly nodded at Sam encouragingly. "Isn't there anything you want to say, Sam?"

"Yeah, I forgive you, Fredward. Now, c'mon, I'm sure your mom's going to have a fit over that nose."

Carly helped Freddie get his backpack as Principal Franklin talked with the paramedics that Freddie's mom had begged the school to call if something ever happened to Freddie. Freddie moved off so the paramedics could do a quick examination of his nose, pupils and various other medical things, and Carly and Sam stood by watching.

Principal Franklin walked over. "Girls, do you know what led up to this? Freddie's not a fighter."

Sam grimaced and quickly filled him in on the morning's misunderstanding. For one minute, it looked like he was about to smile.

"So, Freddie Benson stood up for Samantha Puckett?" His face was wiped clean of all expression, but Sam could see the amusement in his eyes. "Interesting."

"That's right, Ted, and don't call me Samantha."

"And don't call me Ted," he answered back, smiling a little before he dismissed them.

"What's up with him?" she asked Carly, but Carly just looked after their principal with a considering expression.

Freddie resisted being put on a gurney, so as the paramedics were walking him out to the ambulance, Sam jogged a little to catch up.

"Freddie," she said hesitantly, catching him by the arm. He turned, his big brown eyes alight with something that looked like… was that hope? Sam went with instinct and gave him a quick hug, backing off before he could even react. "Thanks."

He nodded and grinned widely, wincing a little as the skin pulled at his tender nose, and walked out with the paramedics.

When Sam turned back towards the school, Carly was standing there with an equally as foolish grin as Freddie had just had. Sam awkwardly laughed a little. "What's with you, Shay?"

Carly just shrugged and threw her arm around Sam's shoulder. "It's just been a good day, that's all."

What? Sam asked it out loud. "Freddie just got his nose broken, I was harassed all morning by stupid hormone-crazed jerks, and it's been a good day?"

But Carly just continued to smile mysteriously as she led Sam to the next period.


	9. Step 4

_**Rule 4: Don't expect Sam to talk about feelings – hers, yours, or anyone else's. **_

_**Step 4: Tell her how you feel.**_

"But Freddie!"

"No, Mom." Freddie made sure his voice was even, deep and without inflection. Ever since the one time he'd moved out, it was the only way to show his overprotective mother that he was serious about something. "You can't keep me locked up forever."

"But your nose, Freddie, what if you break it again? What if you walk out into the hallway, trip, and hit your face against the Shays' door?" Marissa Benson was getting the crazy, unreasonable look in her eye that usually came whenever her son tried to defy her nurturing. "No, I can't allow my Freddie bear to take that kind of risk." Her chin took on a stubborn set as she approached him with a bowl. "Now how about some fruit I pounded with a mallet?"

"I don't want any fruit," Freddie said reasonably as he finished tying his shoe. "I'm going over to Carly's to upgrade the router in the studio."

Mrs. Benson slammed the bowl down on the counter. "Fine! But if you're going, I'm going, too."

"Mom." Freddie took her by the arms and looked straight into her eyes. "I'm going to the studio. I'll be fine. You are not going with me."

Freddie saw the moment that he won, when she looked away from him and sighed unevenly, and finally nodded her agreement. But as he started to turn away, she grabbed him in a fierce hug. He reciprocated for a moment, then gradually started easing away. Just as he was about free, though, his mom grabbed fistfuls of the back of his shirt. "Just tell me the truth, Fredward. Was this because of Carly? Was she the reason that your beautiful face got broken?"

Freddie smiled, then winced at the tenderness. "No, Mom, I can honestly say for once, it wasn't because of Carly."

He allowed her to kiss his cheek before he finally escaped, heading across the hallway, undoubtedly with her supervision through the peephole, and into the Shay apartment without a knock.

Spencer was on a ladder, precariously perched as he slowly pulled a long block of wood from the middle of a tower of similar pieces. "'Sup, Fredwardo! " he called cheerily as he climbed down and gently set the block on the floor. "Aren't you home early? School doesn't end for another hour." As he looked up, he winced and touched his own nose in sympathy. "Ouch! That looks like it hurts. What happened?"

Freddie tried to shrug it off. "I got in a fight at school."

Spencer chuckled. "C'mon, kid. You? A fight? What really happened?" He dropped onto the couch and smirked at Freddie.

"I'm serious, Spence. I got in a fight with a kid on the football team. That's why I'm home early." Freddie sat next to Spencer, who was looking at him with consideration.

"That's not like you," Spencer mused. "What happened?"

Freddie glanced at the older man out of the corner of his eye, then trained all his concentration on the very interesting surface of the coffee table. "This guy was giving Sam a hard time, so I stepped in."

"Sam who?" Spencer asked, brows drawn in confusion.

"Sam Puckett, who else?"

Spencer let out a loud laugh. "Sam Puckett as in Samantha Puckett as in Carly's best friend, blonde-headed tormentor 'I-can-take-on-a-grown-man-twice-my-size' Samantha Puckett?" He shook his head wonderingly. "I don't know what really happened, but based on this story, maybe I don't need to know." He took one hard look at Freddie's nose again, then raised a hand near Freddie's face. "That looks bad. Can I poke it?"

Freddie was dumbfounded. "No, you cannot poke my broken nose!"

Spencer dropped his hand with a shrug, rose to his feet and moved back over to his sculpture.

Freddie opened his mouth to belabor the story of the fight, but realized it was a lost cause, and just shook his head. "What're you making, anyway?"

Spencer started back up the ladder. "It's like that game where you stack a bunch of blocks then try to remove ones from the middle without knocking the whole thing over."

"Oh yeah," Freddie said, moving towards the stairs for his original purpose. "What's that game called?"

"Jumbla!" Spencer shouted, as the entire structure began to shake when he pulled the next block free. They both watched, and when the shaking seemed fruitless and the tower stood, Spencer grinned widely at Freddie and moved to the next block.

Freddie knew it was just a matter of time before it all came tumbling down.

About an hour later, Freddie had completed all upgrading, installing, debugging, and firewalling that iCarly should need for the next year, and was waiting impatiently in the studio for the girls to finally get home. Not that this was Sam's home, but he knew that she would undoubtedly be heading this way with Carly. If for no other reason, than to yell at him some more. He wondered what it said about him that he was looking forward to it.

When he heard the sound of their voices in conversation with Spencer, he felt every nerve in his body go on red alert, and struggled to stay calm, laying back on the beanbag and turning his PearPod on low. Over the music he could hear them running up the stairs, talking a little, though he couldn't make out the words, and finally they were here. _She_ was here.

He looked up at them, and pulled his ear buds out. "Hey."

They both moved over, and he could see morbid interest in their eyes as both girls focused in on his battered nose. Sam was the first to shake it off, giving him a patronizing smirk. "Well, if it isn't Conerd the Barbarian," she said dropping onto the beanbag beside him. "Hail the conquering dipwad."

"Sam," Carly said warningly, but she seemed to be struggling to keep a straight face. Freddie couldn't honestly blame her; there were times when Sam's biting sense of humor and the intelligence she suppressed came together and left him amazed. And usually smarting, as most of these instances were at his own expense.

Sam grinned unrepentantly then turned her laser-blue eyes on him, pinning him to the spot. "Alright, Fredward, now it's time to spill. I want the whole story, beginning to end."

So Freddie told her everything (well, almost everything, he left out his confession to Carly) and at the end she seemed a little amused by the whole thing.

Sam leaned back, stretching her legs out, and looked as if she were ready to take a nap. Except that her disconcerting gaze was still riveted to Freddie's face. "The thing I still don't understand is why you took on David. You had to know that I was going to take care of it."

"You shouldn't have had to," he answered. "It was all my fault that he-"

"That he what, Benson? Hit on me? Was an idiot? Dared to put his hands on Mama?" She shook her head. "He does that all the time, and I take care of it each and every time. Was it a little more aggressive this time? Yes, because his pride was hurt when he thought I chose you over him, but-"

"He's done this before?" Freddie was shocked. Sam was one of his best friends. How had he never noticed this? And what was wrong with that guy that he couldn't just take one "no" for an answer?

"Of course. A few guys have, and you've never cared before." Sam sat up, confusion stamped on her face. "What does it matter now? Just because of the rumor you started?"

Freddie glanced at Carly covertly, and she was hanging on every word. She met his gaze and nodded encouragingly.

He sighed. "I guess I was oblivious to it all in the past. But it matters now."

"But why?" Sam asked stubbornly. "Why now, Fredward? What's changed?"

Freddie's head was spinning. This was going way too fast. His plan had been to bring around over the course of a few months, not a few weeks, and yet here he was: D-Day. He glanced at Carly again, and knew there'd be no help from that side. The situation was gradually slipping out of his careful control.

Reprieve came when they heard Spencer scream and a loud tumbling noise like, oh say, twenty wooden blocks falling. Carly jumped up and started running from the room as Spencer shouted, "I'm okay! I'm just trapped! Carlyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!"

Carly turned back at this and stopped her two best friends, who had started running after her. "You guys stay here and finish hashing this out. I'm going to go unbury him." She squeezed Freddie's arm reassuringly, and was gone.

With the intensity of the previous moment broken, Sam and Freddie returned to the beanbags and just sat quietly for a moment to make sure that Carly wouldn't need their help. After a few minutes of hearing nothing but Carly exasperated voice and Spencer's excited one, they relaxed into the awkward silence of the studio.

Sam leaned forward and rested her elbows on her crossed legs and examined Freddie's face. "That does look like it hurts a lot. Can I poke it?"

Freddie blew out an annoyed breath, then chuckled. "What is it with people wanting to poke my injuries?" He shook his head, then shrugged. "Sure, why not? If you really want to, go ahead."

Instead of looking pleased, Sam sank back against her seat. "Well, now I don't want to if you're going to give me permission."

Freddie laughed a little. "Of course," he said with a smile, looking over at Sam who was grinning back at him. As they stared at each, he saw Sam's smile drop, and she looked away as she licked her lips. When her gaze returned to him, it was full of determination.

"So back to my original question: what changed, Freddie?"

It was Freddie's turn to look away for a minute. It always caught him off-guard when she called him by his real name, although she had started doing so more and more in the past year. There was a part of him that loved it and a part that hated it. Right now, he hated it because it meant she was being serious. And he had no way out of it.

Taking a deep bracing breath, Freddie steeled his nerves and looked at Sam, his best friend, his tormentor, the object of his oddly placed affection, and confessed.

"I'm falling in love with you, Sam."


	10. Rule 5, Part One

**[A/N: I didn't want to waste any of my word count on author notes, because I always feel duped when I expect a long story, and most of it is a note instead. But I just want to (1) apologize for taking so long to post this chapter – real life always seems to interfere; (2) thank ****everyone**** for the awesome reviews, favorite adds, and story alerts; and (3) explain that in this chapter our two love-crossed protagonists **_**may**_** seem a little OOC, but I think I've kept them pretty consistent; I'm just exploring areas that Dan hasn't yet. I hope everyone is happy, after the long wait, for this chapter. Only a few more left to go! Thanks again, C]**

_**Rule 5 [part one]: Just when you think you have Sam all figured out…**_

Sam's heart skipped not one, not two, but three beats, then resumed pumping again at an alarming rate. She could feel all the blood drain from her face, then return in a rush that deafened her to anything. A sick taste rose to the back of her throat, and she fought twin urges to either cry or punch. As the blood pounded relentlessly in her head, she struggled to keep her composure as she looked across at the boy she considered one of her best friends, and maybe… But no.

He was looking at her with concern and fear, and she could see his lips moving as he spoke to her, but it took a few minutes for it to filter through the riot between her ears. "Say something, Sam."

Sam laughed instinctively, cruelly, cynically. "Wow, Fredward. I know I've done some horrible stuff to you in the past, but you win. Epically. That was low." She cautiously shook her head, and rose to her feet, hoping she could escape before her emotions took control and she ended up doing or saying something she'd regret. "Tell Carly I had to leave."

"Wait, what?" Freddie jumped to his feet and followed her, cutting off her exit strategy by standing in front of the elevator. "What's going on, Sam? I just told you something pretty important, and now you're bailing?" She could see him beginning to get just as mad, his face flushing red and his eyes turning to dark coals. That vein on his neck that she loved to provoke into appearance was at full attention.

Sam shook her head. "C'mon, Freddie. You and I both know this is some sort of sick revenge. And, hey, in a crazy way, I don't blame you. I would've done it way sooner than this if someone did to me half the chizz I do to you." She tried to get around him, but his new solid frame was harder to circumnavigate. After several thwarted attempts to duck around or under him, she finally just stood her ground and met his eye. "Please move."

"The door to the stairs is right over there," he pointed out, his face a mask of unidentifiable emotions. "Feel free, but you'll have to get through Carly first."

Sam weighed her options. Physically, Carly was no contest, but Sam knew there was no way she'd make it out of the apartment without exploding once Carly set in on her. She made a strategic retreat and backed up to the middle of the room. "Obviously you're not done here, so if you have something else to say, speak."

She watched him run frustrated fingers through his hair, making the soft brown tufts stick out every which way. She felt a bizarre need to fix it for him, but held her ground and made him come to her. Which he did, in the way one would approach a feral animal. Slowly, cautiously, knowing at any minute you could get bitten.

Freddie was silent for a few minutes, then let out a laugh. "I should've known this wouldn't go smoothly." He shook his head. "Sam, this isn't some elaborate revenge. I meant what I said. I'm falling in love with you." He grinned wryly. "If anything, your unwillingness to believe it has only pushed me closer to 'fallen' than fall_ing_."

Sam stared at him and saw nothing but sincerity reflected in his eyes. She'd always imagined that if some guy had ever been crazy enough to take her on, she'd fall willingly into his hands, grateful that someone could see past her hard exterior. But this? Freddie? She hadn't planned on it being him, hadn't ever even thought of him that way. Which wasn't strictly true, her conscience prodded her into admitting. In the past few years, as Freddie came into his own, and especially since their kiss, Sam had caught herself on more than one occasion thinking about Freddie… _that way_. She'd always written it off as a fluke, a natural result of being a hormonal teenage girl in close proximity to a decent-looking, nice teenage boy. And he'd always been safe to think about, because there was never any risk, any chance that he'd ever look at her the same way. After all, he was in love with… "Carly. What about Carly in all of this? What happened to your love for her? Your plan to be her second husband?"

Freddie smiled sheepishly. "It turns out that when I came face-to-face with the possibility of that fate, it wasn't what I wanted. When Carly and I dated, there was no spark. It was nice, comfortable… boring. Like it was when I kissed Melanie. I thought she was you, and I was disappointed when 'Sam' kissed me, that I didn't feel the same fireworks I'd felt the first time. Then, after a few months, I realized that the charge between us, the crackle of electricity, was still there, and the only explanation for it, was that Melanie was real. And it was _her_ that I had kissed."

"You know, it's kind of skeezy that you've kissed me, my twin sister, and my best friend. But that still doesn't explain why or how you've transferred all of these revelations into being in… well, you know… with me." Sam narrowed her eyes at him. "Not that I believe you actually are. I believe that you _think_ you are," she clarified as he started to interrupt. "But, Freddie, we're seventeen years old. Each of us is going to 'fall in love' a dozen times before we ever find the One."

Freddie shook his head, then lifted his right hand to shoulder level. "Put your hand up like this," he told her, then kept moving closer and closer as she did as he said. He didn't stop his progress until there was only half an inch of air separating the two of them. He moved his hand until she could feel the healthy male heat of his hand against her palm, but not actually touching. He moved his left hand up as well, and Sam followed suit with no prompting. She could feel the electricity arcing between the two of them, making the hair on her neck and arms lift, and her breath catch. Stunned, she lifted her eyes to his. His normal, uninteresting brown eyes had melted into pools of dark chocolate. His face was flushed along his cheekbones, and she could feel the same heat in her own face. Slowly he lowered his head, until all that was separating their lips was the same thin veil of air that separated their hands. "At the risk of sounding nerdy," he said, his voice lower than she had ever heard it, "this is what happens when two opposite charges are brought together. The current is completed. It can't work without both the positive and negative."

Sam licked her suddenly dry lips and saw something darken in his gaze. "That was… pretty nerdy," she managed. "But all this proves is that we could probably light a lightbulb with what's between us. There's more to it than that." She reluctantly pulled away, and instantly felt cold. Rubbing her arms, she turned her back to him and paced a few steps away. "Freddie, it's not that I feel nothing. I think it's pretty obvious that I do. But I honestly believe it's just normal teenage infatuation. It would be a longshot to bet that it could be something more, and, as corny as it sounds, I don't know that I'm willing to risk losing you as a friend to find out." Turning back, she saw him mull over her words.

He looked at her with consideration, that infuriating smirk present. "I never thought I'd see the day that Sam Puckett admitted to being a coward."

Of all the things she'd expected, that was the last, and she felt her jaw drop to her chest. "What?"

"You heard me, Samantha. Who'd have ever expected that I, Freddie Benson, would be the brave one, and that you would be chicken?" He shook his head in wonder. "For someone with so much creativity, Sam, you don't have much of an imagination. Yes, when you look at it on paper, the two of us don't make much sense, but there's no denying that we complement each other. We bring out the best – and worst – in each other like no one else can. We're best friends, and we have amazing chemistry. You make me loosen up, and I think I make you more responsible. Positive and negative. We fit."

He slowly began to ease closer to her again, and Sam felt rooted to the spot. She tried to find some hole in his logic, but the only thing that she could think of was that he was going to kiss her, and if he did, she'd be lost. "Don't kiss me," she managed, but she knew, and she could see that he knew, that she didn't mean it.

Nevertheless, he stopped just short of putting his lips to hers. "Fine, I won't. I'll let you kiss me." Confidence and humor filled his face, and Sam wanted nothing more than to knock him down a peg. Well, she _almost_ wanted nothing more. Right now, those lips were looking pretty inviting.

"It's just chemistry," she murmured, more to herself than him. "You're not the One. This isn't love." She lifted her hand to his chest, and felt his heart pounding, and was reassured that she wasn't the only one just this side of a major coronary.

"Whatever you say, Princess Puckett," he agreed, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Sam was alternately thrilled and saddened every time he called her by that ridiculous nickname. "Yeah, right, a princess." She laughed. "That's what you deserve, Freddie, and what I'll never be. I'll always be Sam Puckett, the girl from the wrong side of town with the promiscuous mother and the bad attitude." She shook her head, frustration replacing the yearning. She had to make him understand. "You have so much going for you. You don't want to tie yourself to my anchor. Especially not now, a few months before you go off to college."

"You know," he mused, "you put so much energy trying to find reasons why we shouldn't be together, that if you used even half of it to work on a relationship, there's no way it could fail."

"I'm serious, Freddie. I don't want to be the millstone around your neck." She let her hand drop, and replaced it with her forehead. "You're my friend, which is why I want the best for you. And I know I'm not it. You'll see I'm right."

"Sam…" For the first time since his little electricity experiment, Sam heard the confidence in his voice waver, felt his hands shake a little as he held her closer, tangling his fingers in her hair. "I'm right. Trust me. We belong together."

Sam took a deep breath and pushed away from the safe haven of his arms. "No, Freddie, no we don't. I'll always be your friend, as long as you want me to be, but we can't be anything more." She started walking backwards from him, and the heartbreak and confusion on his face was tearing her apart. She worked up a smile. "But hey, anytime you come home from college and you want a good time, at least you know I'll be willing."

She audibly heard him suck in a breath at that, and saw his face darken. "Don't," he ground out. "Don't take what I feel for you and discard it, and offer me something cheap and meaningless instead. I deserve more than that."

Smiling sadly, Sam pushed the button for the elevator. "That's what I'm trying to tell you." The elevator dinged and she got on, holding his gaze the whole time. As the doors closed, Sam felt her heart break into a million shards, and it was all she could do to keep it together.

Running out of the lobby, oblivious to Lewbert's shouting, Sam ran headlong into someone entering the building at the same time. Sam staggered back a few steps and regained her balance, but her victim wasn't so lucky. Sam extended a hand to help the woman up, only to find that it was the second-to-last person she wanted to see right now: Freddie's mom.

She acknowledged Sam with a curt nod, and disapproving pursed lips. "Samantha."

"Sorry, Mrs. Benson. I was just leaving." Sam started to walk out, then turned back. "Mrs. Benson," she began, and waited until the older woman turned back around to hear her out. "Tell him that I'm right. He deserves so much more, and I can't ever offer it to him. If you love him as much as you seem to, don't let him settle on me." And with that, Sam walked out of the Bushwell, blinking back tears, and started running towards home.


	11. Rule 5, Part Two

_**Rule 5 [part two]: Just when you think you have Sam all figured out … she'll always find a way to surprise you.**_

Head in his hands, Freddie waited a good minute before realizing how stupid he was for letting her get away. He tore down the stairs, waved off Spencer and Carly, and ran out the door. Deciding the elevator would take too long, he started taking the stairs double time, then taking three at a time, doing anything he could to catch up to her. Somewhere between the fifth and fourth floors, he realized someone else was on the staircase coming in the opposite direction, and tried to slow his pace so he could avoid a catastrophe.

The catastrophe, however, was unavoidable, because it was his mother on the stairs.

"Freddie!" she trilled, joy in her voice. As she got closer, she frowned. "Why are you all sweaty and flushed? Are you sick? Is infection sitting in? I knew I shouldn't have let you leave the apartment!" Her hands were all over his face, wiping his damp hair off his forehead, cupping his cheeks.

Freddie shook her off. "Mom! Mom, I can't talk right now. I have to get to the lobby so I-"

Marissa Benson put her hands on her hips. "Is this about Samantha Puckett? I just ran into her – literally! – as she was leaving. She said some pretty interesting things to me, Fredward, things you and I need to discuss immediately."

"Later, Mom."

"Right now, young man!" she said and proceeded to hustle him into the elevator on the fifth floor. As soon as the elevator door closed, Marissa turned on her son. "Please tell me that you haven't gotten your boy hormones all mixed up with that delinquent."

Grimacing, Freddie shrugged her question off. "Sam's not a delinquent. She's my friend."

The elevator dinged their arrival on the eighth floor and mother and son walked down the hall to their apartment. "That doesn't answer my question. She said something to me about not letting you 'settle' on her." Marissa unlocked their door and ushered Freddie in, then took him by the shoulders. "Freddie, please don't throw your life away on a girl. It was bad enough when I thought it was going to be Carly, but Sam… You deserve something so much more than a girl who will constantly make your life miserable."

Freddie winced as he heard the echo of words he'd spoken before to Sam – on the night that had changed his whole perspective on her. "You're the one," he pointed out, "who put the possibility of _Sam_ having a crush on _me_ in my head. 'Fredward, when a girl always makes fun of a boy that means she has a crush on him'. Remember that?" He shook his head. "I can't help how I feel about Sam, Mom. Do you think I'd have picked her if that'd been the case? Don't you think I'd rather fall for someone easy to handle, who likes me back, and doesn't come with a whole truck full of baggage? This was as much of a surprise to me as it is to you."

Marissa sighed and released her son's shoulders, only to smooth his dark hair. "Oh, Freddie. Every parent just wishes they could make their child's life easy and protect them from anything that may harm them. Including – maybe especially – a broken heart. I really thought you'd be safe as long as you had your infatuation with Carly, because I knew you'd grow out of it eventually, and your friendship would end up meaning so much more. But this, now, you're practically a man." Her lower lip quivered a little in a way that made Freddie extremely nervous. "And one day, you'll be married and have children of your own, and understand why this is so hard for me. But if this – if Sam – is really what you want-"

Freddie met his mother's eyes calmly, with conviction. "She is.'

Marissa sighed and nodded. "Then I'll just stand by and wait to pick up the pieces."

"Mom," Freddie smiled sadly, "you're acting like it's a foregone conclusion that she's going to hurt me."

Pulling him into a hug, she murmured, "Hasn't she already?"

Sam struggled to compose herself as she walked up to her front door. Now that her mom had taken a more active interest in Sam's life, there were bound to be questions if she walked in with tear-rimmed eyes. Opening the door, she smiled a little as Frothy streaked outside, eager to hunt mice and join his tomcat posse. No doubt he'd been pinned inside all day, and was desperate to escape Pam's company. Most of the time, Sam wouldn't blame him.

Walking in, she saw her mom, dressed as outrageously as ever in a peacock-patterned vest and brown leather pants with fringe on the sides, talking on the phone and waving her hand around in the air as she made a date with yet another new guy. Sam saw the minute her mom spotted her and the minimal signs of crying that Sam had obviously missed. Pam Puckett narrowed her eyes at her daughter and hung up the phone after confirming an eight o'clock dinner date that night.

"Well, well," Pam said with the trademark Puckett smirk. "Is this what time school lets out? I'd always assumed it wasnt until, oh, about ten o'clock. Why aren't you at Carly's?"

Sam shrugged and tossed her bookbag on the table before pulling out a chair to sit in. "I'd just thought I'd come home instead."

Pam dropped into a chair across the meager table and sent a pile of unopened envelopes tumbling. "Horse puckey. Something's wrong. You're upset," she said with deliberation as she worked it out herself. "Something important enough that you're not just throwing punches. So it's either Carly herself or that Benson boy. What's his name, Frankie?"

Sam sighed, and dropped her head down on the cluttered surface in front of her. "His name's Freddie."

"Bingo," Pam said. "He's the problem. What's the matter, are you late?"

Sam whipped her head up and looked at her mother with shock and dismay. "No, Mother. It's not like that between Freddie and me."

"Well, why not? He's filled out some, finally passed you up in height, seems like a decent kid." Pam shrugged as if it was obvious. "What's stopping you?"

"Has the whole world gone mad?" Sam asked, flopping back in her chair. "For years, I've said that I've hated that nub, that I couldn't stand to be around him, that when he talked I had urges to punch him. I've inflicted countless acts of emotional and physical harm on him. I've tortured, teased, and tormented him. Why is _everyone_ so convinced that we belong together?"

Pam sat back and regarded her daughter carefully, then finally spoke. "_Do_ you hate him?"

With a frustrated growl, Sam stood up and began to pace, her blonde hair whipping behind her. "I don't know! I don't know anymore. I thought I did; I really, really want to. It would make my life five hundred percent better if I could just say it and believe it. But now he's saying he's in love with me, and talking about chemistry and electricity, and almost-kissing me, and I just don't know anymore!" With a deep breath, she sat again. "Growing up is confusing."

"Stop trying to complicate it," her mother advised. "If you think there might be something there – and there _obviously _is – go out with him. If it doesn't work out, no harm, no foul, you go back to being friends and you move on."

"But how do I know that it will be that easy? What if he's still in love with me, and I really don't love him? Or what if he finds out he's wrong, but now I'm in love? How could we possibly go back to friendship after that?" Sam shook her head stubbornly. "It's better to leave things as they are now."

Pam started walking past as her phone began ringing again, but stopped to lay a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Samantha, if there's one thing I've learned through my vast and various dating experiences, you have to be willing to take the risk or you'll always end up wondering 'what if'."

Since her mother had already made other dinner arrangements and there wasn't much in the way of edible food (besides what belonged to the cat) in the apartment, Sam reluctantly made her way over to the Bushwell and hoped that she could avoid Freddie. Carly had taken great pains to assure Sam that he hadn't been over and it was unlikely that he would be, given what had happened earlier that day.

Unfortunately, Sam hadn't foreseen the machinations of fate that would drive her to – once again – meet up with Mrs. Benson in the lobby. Trying to slip by without drawing any attention, Sam was nearly home free until Lewbert screamed, "No creeping in my lobby! Oh, hello, Marissa," he said in a modified, semi-normal voice as Mrs. Benson turned around to see what had caused the commotion.

Sam froze in her tracks.

Mrs. Benson looked pained as she nodded to Lewbert and made her way over to Sam. "Samantha, walk with me." When Sam began to protest, Mrs. Benson simply took her by the arm and led her out of the building.

Once on the deserted sidewalk, the older woman paused and started slowly making her way to the building parking lot. "I had a long talk with Freddie, and told him what you'd asked me to. Knowing my son, I doubt it made a difference.

"The thing is, Samantha, I love my son. And I want the best for him. And like you, I have my hesitations to assume that you are it. That being said, I also want him happy. For whatever reason, he's gotten it into his head the only way to that happiness is through you. I'm not asking or telling you what to do," she clarified before Sam could make any objection, "but I _am_ asking you, no matter what you decide, please, please be kind with him. Or as kind as you can be." Mrs. Benson smirked a little, and for the first time, Sam could really see the resemblance between mother and son.

As they reached the outer limits of the parking lot, Sam stopped Freddie's mom. "I never intended for any of this to happen. If I had it my way, we'd all go back to the way it was when we were fourteen, before first kisses, and dating, and complicated love-hate relationships. This has shocked me just as much as it has you, and never in a million years would I dream that Fredward Benson would ever see me in a romantic way, regardless of any kiss, but-"

"Kiss?" Mrs. Benson asked, her eyes sharp. "Did you say that you and my little Fredward have _kissed_?"

Sam rolled her lips in and inhaled deeply through her nose. "I did not know he didn't tell you that." Sighing, Sam wiggled her shoulders in unease. "Remember that time when I embarrassed Freddie by announcing on iCarly that he'd never kissed anyone? Of course you do," she hastily added as Mrs. Benson's face took on the unhappy cast of someone remembering a past rage. "Well, the night I made it up to him and said I hadn't had my first kiss either… to make a long story short, that night both my and Freddie's status as 'never-been-kissed' was corrected."

"You shared your first kiss," Mrs. Benson said with wonder in her voice. Her eyes softened a little, and she looked at Sam for a long time in a way that made Sam _very_ uncomfortable, then finally continued. "Maybe I've underestimated Freddie's judgment. And maybe I've underestimated his feelings here. I haven't made up my mind about you yet, Samantha, but I'll tell you this: if you decide to take a chance on Freddie, I'm willing to take a chance on you. Don't blow it."

And with that, Mrs. Benson walked away, leaving Sam standing in stupefied shock. Her phone started ringing and, working on autopilot, she answered without checking. When she heard Carly's voice, she interrupted with, "I'll be at the Groovy Smoothie. Meet me there in ten."

At the GS, Sam ordered a Strawberry Splat from T-Bo and scared some younger kids away from her regular table so she could wait for Carly in peace. Unfortunately, peace and T-Bo did not go hand in hand.

"Wanna buy an ice cream sandwich?" he asked, holding a stick of quickly melting treats impaled on a stick. Behind him was a sticky, slippery mess that he, being T-Bo, seemed oblivious to.

"No, thanks, Teebs," Sam answered. When he stood there just staring at her, she got defensive. "What?"

"That's it? 'No, thanks'? Where's the verbal abuse? The sarcasm?" He shook his head, making his braids swing from side to side. "What's up, blondie?"

Sam sighed and took a long drink of her smoothie. When that didn't deter him, she gave up. "What would I say to you if I said that Freddie thinks he's in love with me?"

T-Bo pulled out one of the empty chairs, leaned one elbow on the table and said, "I'd say, Duh!"

That pulled Sam up short. "What do you mean, duh?"

T-Bo laughed and pulled two ice cream sandwiches off the stick and offered one to Sam, and began eating the other. "Sam Puckett, there's not a person in here, employee or patron, who doesn't realize that Freddie Benson is in love with you. Except," he added with a grin, "for you."

Sam licked the outer edges of her sandwich and gave him a look. "You're crazy."

T-Bo looked around and called out, "Everyone! Important question." All of the customers and staff turned to look at him. "Is there anyone here who doesn't know that Freddie is in love with Sam?" Most people shook their heads and went back to their conversations, some laughed, but from what she could overhear, Sam deduced that this was not news to anyone in the entire restaurant. T-Bo looked back at Sam, who shook her head.

"Why didn't anyone ever say anything?" she asked.

"We knew that the two of you would figure it out eventually," he answered, rising to his feet and chuckling. As Sam cleaned the last of the sticky ice cream mess off her fingers, T-Bo looked at her. "That'll be $3.50 for the ice cream sandwich."

Carly Shay loved her best friends – really, she did. She would do anything for them, back them right or wrong, and be there for them in any storm. This, however, this tenuous situation between her two best friends in the whole world, was testing even her boundaries of what she'd put up with.

She sat across Sam at the Groovy Smoothie, after paying for an ice cream sandwich that T-Bo claims Sam owed him for, and that Sam refused to pay for on principle. Whatever had happened in the intervening hours between Freddie storming after Sam and now, Carly knew it had only whipped Sam into a further maelstrom of confusion.

Carly had bought Sam a new Smoothie and nudged the Styrofoam cup across the table. "So you've gotten advice from everyone but me on the situation. Do you even want to hear my take?"

Sam exhaled. "Might as well, it can't hurt." Sipping her smoothie, she put one elbow on the table surface and supported her head in her palm. "Lay it on me, Carlotta."

"Okay, at the beginning, you and Freddie didn't get along. I never really understood it, but I accepted it for what it was and tried not to intervene too much. As we all started iCarly, we became a team, and the two of you became – if not friends – then frenemies. After that, there was the kiss, and the inevitable gas-soaked fallout of that. You dated Pete, Freddie and I dated for that week, but neither relationship really worked out. Maybe all of it was for a reason." Carly placed her palms flat on the table and leaned in. "Maybe it's all been leading up to this moment, where you realize the dislike, the friendship, the failed relationships, it's all led you – both of you – to this point where you're finally… oh, how can I put this? Formed, I guess. Like one of Spencer's sculptures, where he works and works, and not every part makes sense if you take it piece by piece, but in the end, when it's all together, it's a work of art. Every decision up to this point has made you who you are, and who you are is someone Freddie Benson finds worthy of his love. That can't be a mistake."

Sam thought about this for a moment. "But what if this interlude with Freddie is just another piece of the sculpture?"

Carly scowled. "But what if it's not?"

Sam ground her teeth. "But what if it is?"

Throwing her hands up, Carly sat back in her chair. "There's no way of knowing! I guess you just have to trust that, whether it's just _a_ piece or it's _the last_ piece, you'll eventually have a work of art. But you don't know until you try that piece out, stand back, and take a good look at the outcome."

"So what you're saying, is that I should at least give him a chance, then stand back and decide whether it was the right move or not." Sam slurped the last few drops of her smoothie thoughtfully. "Like poker. If I like my hand I can just keep raising; if it's not so good or I don't like the odds, I can fold. I don't have to go all in."

Carly grinned at her friend. "Why didn't I think to phrase it like that?"

Sam snorted. "Yeah, right, Shay. I'd love to see the day you sat down to a hand of Texas Hold 'Em."

"It could happen," Carly exclaimed jokingly, knowing it probably wouldn't ever.

Wednesdays were normally iCarly clip days, where Carly took a break from being in front of the camera, and took over Freddie's position instead so he and Sam could play the crazy games they loved. Random debates; Hey! What am I sitting on?; Hey! What am I licking?; Super Slow Motion. The insane chemistry between Freddie and Sam made these crazy ideas even more fun for the viewer, and they were insanely popular on .

Today, however, Sam was still reviewing the situation and Spencer had volunteered to fill in for her. While Carly got the camera focused, Spencer and Freddie were just getting ready to do another random debate (mushrooms vs. non-proliferation) when the elevator doors opened.

Being quick on her feet, Carly hit the little red button while everyone was distracted. If this was what she thought it was, nothing was going to stop her from posting it online.

Sam walked into the studio, ignoring Spencer's greeting, and went right over to Freddie. "All right, Fredward. I've thought a lot about what you've said. And while I'm not ready for lo- for _that word_ yet, I've decided that if you're still interested I'd be willing…" She took a deep breath, then let out the rest of it on her exhale, "togoonadatewithyou."

**[A/N: Only ONE MORE CHAPTER to go (and I promise it will be up ****before**** iStart a Fanwar. After that I have plans for two (yes, **_**two**_**) epilogues!]**


	12. Step 5

_**Rule 5: Just when you think you have Sam all figured out … she'll always find a way to surprise you.**_

_**Step 5: Buckle up, hold on, and enjoy the ride.**_

Freddie looked elated. "Really? This isn't some prank, is it?" He didn't wait for an answer, just wrapped his arms around Sam, who gave in to his embrace reluctantly. Resting his forehead on top of hers, he murmured loud enough for Carly to hear it behind the camera, "You won't regret this. I promise. I _promise_, Sam, that you will never, for one minute, regret taking this chance."

Sam visibly relaxed into his hold after hearing this, even going so far as to hug him back and grin up at him. "I hope not, Freddenstein, because I'm taking it out on you if I do."

He grinned back. "I would expect no less, Puckett. Let's go."

"What? Now?" Sam looked around, and Carly held breath, waiting for someone to notice the little red light that said she was recording. "You want to go on a date _now_?"

"Shoosh, yeah," Freddie answered, taking her by the hand and leading her out of the studio. "I'm not wasting one more minute. We've already wasted four years."

"Okay," Carly could hear Sam say as the door closed behind them, "but there are some ground rules. Rule one-"

As they walked out without a word to either Shay sibling, Carly stopped recording then turned to her brother, who was silently celebrating, hands in the air. Carly couldn't hold back her laughter, and finally Spencer let out the excited screech he'd been suppressing and started skipping around.

"You got that, right?" he asked, once they'd both calmed down. "Please tell me you got that on video."

Friday night on iCarly, she answered him by tricking Freddie into playing it during the live webcast. After it was finished, she grinned into the camera. "That's right, people, you heard it hear first: Freddie Benson and Sam Puckett _finally_ went on a date." She leaned over and took Sam's remote from her friend's nerveless hand and pressed the applause button.

Downstairs at the kitchen counter, Spencer celebrated again while talking to Socko. "I know, right? I just knew it was going to happen eventually. It had to!"

Across the hall, Marissa Benson smiled at the thought that finally Freddie got the girl, the grimaced when she thought about the possibility of one day being Sam Puckett's mother-in-law, and carefully arranged everything in Freddie's room just the way he'd had it.

At the Puckett household, Pam chuckled out loud, then read Carly's written instructions on how to shut off Sam's computer, and went to get ready for her date.

A few blocks over, Ted Franklin grinned at his daughter as they sat in front of the family computer, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "See, honey, I told you it'd all work out."

At the Groovy Smoothie, where Gibby had set up a viewing station at Carly's behest, a cheer went up, and T-Bo, caught up in the moment, offered everyone a congratulatory smoothie on the house.

Back in the iCarly studio, Carly had nudged Freddie out from behind the camera, and taken possession of it herself. The very tips of Freddie's ears were turning red, and Sam's face flushed in a way Carly had never seen.

"So, guys," Carly began in a sing-song tone, "how'd the date go?"

Sam and Freddie glanced at each other, and it was clear that neither was trying to give too much away. "Good. It was good," Sam said in her driest tone.

Freddie nodded. "Yep, very good." Then he cracked by grinning at Sam, who rolled her eyes and finally grinned back.

"And, uh, what were the rules that Sam imposed, Freddie?"

With a twinkle in his eye, Freddie smirked. "In the event that a first date goes well, and we start dating, the rules are as follows. Rule one: Sam is always the boss. Rule two: If either one of us ever changes our minds, we go back to being friends, no harm, no foul. Rule three: All presents for Sam on any anniversaries will be given in the form of a meat product. Rule four: No cutesy nicknames, beyond the ones we already regularly use. Rule five-" Freddie blushed again, and shot a pained look at Carly. "I don't want to say this one."

"C'mon, Freddie," Carly cajoled. "It can't be that bad!"

"Rule five, Fredward," Sam said sternly, but she wrapped an arm around his waist.

Freddie looked down at her, and nodded. "Rule five: no hands below the shoulders unless Sam gives permission in advance…"

Carly chuckled as Sam looked at the camera and wiggled her eyebrows. "Mama's gotta protect her virtue, after all," Sam said with a grin, then looked back at Freddie. "What's the rest, Freddie?"

He sighed and closed his eyes. "Any and all hand roamage must be requested using the passphrase."

"P-passphrase?" Carly managed, shaking her head, and wondering what small humiliation Sam had cooked up this time.

With a pleading look, Freddie turned his gaze to Sam, who shook her head and gestured helplessly. "It's gone too far now."

"Yes, passphrase." Freddie sighed in resignation. "'Princess Puckett, please allow this lowly nub to show his lub for you'."

After Carly and Sam had stopped laughing, Carly turned the camera back on Freddie. "So even with all the rules, and even though we made you say that live on the web for million of people to see, you're still on board for this?"

Freddie smiled. "Yeah, I am."

Carly panned over to see Sam wearing a relieved smile before she realized she was on. "I am, too," she answered, before Carly could even ask. "In fact, if we could, uh, wrap this up, Fredward and I have some plans."

"Oh, yeah?" Carly zoomed in on their faces. "Where're you guys headed?"

Sam and Freddie exchanged smiles as their eyes met for a long minute. Such a long minute, in fact, that Carly felt a little intrusive watching it. Until Sam turned back to smirk at the camera. "Nowhere special. And definitely not anywhere we'd announce to a bunch of people to come gawk at us. C'mon, Freddie."

And, once again, they left. Carly turned the camera around on herself. "And I guess that's the end of this week's iCarly. Tune in again next week, where I'll be documenting this strange story, step by step. Good night!"

Turning the camera off, she set it down and looked around the empty studio. "And that's a wrap," she called out, her voice echoing back to her in a way that could've been lonely, but wasn't, because she knew that Sam and Freddie would always be a part of her life, and she a part of theirs, even if the two of them were redefining their relationship in a way that didn't include her.

Smiling, she shut off the lights, and went to join Spencer downstairs.

Freddie held the window open for Sam to crawl through, then followed her out onto his fire escape. "I can't believe Carly showed that on the show," Freddie started nervously. Sam seemed okay with the whole world knowing about their personal lives, but sometimes he wondered if there wasn't more going on under the surface than what she showed to others.

Sam turned and grinned. "Yeah, I've taught her well. She's come far in the world of deceit and trickery." She looked around at his lawn chair and cooler, and then back at him. "It's been a few years since we've been out here together."

He laughed and sat on the steps leading up to the next floor. "That night – I wasn't expecting that night. I wasn't expecting any of this. How'd we get here, Sam?"

Taking his chair, she turned it so she could sit and rest her feet in his lap. "Your guess is as good as mine. But I guess if we follow the progress of our relationship, it was inevitable."

Freddie was playing with her shoe laces, but looked up at that. "You think so?"

"Sure, it was obvious. Guy is in unrequited love with a girl, girl has a charming and tempestuous best friend who hates the guy, guy begins to hate best friend, then all of a sudden realizes, maybe it's not hate, it's actually attraction. Maybe best friend realizes the same thing, and realizes that maybe – just maybe – part of her hate was a little bit of jealousy and insecurity, too."

"Sam," Freddie lowered her legs to the ground and scooted forward so he could hold onto the hands she was twisting in her lap, "you have nothing to be jealous or insecure about."

She blew out a breath and laughed self-deprecatingly. "I'm working on that part."

"I mean it. You're beautiful, talented, funny. And I love you." Freddie tentatively leaned forward, and when she didn't back away, gave her a gentle kiss.

Sam closed her eyes as he pulled away, and held onto his shirt to keep him from going far. "I can't say it yet. I don't know that I can promise I'll ever feel it – or say it, so don't feel you have to- or that I don't- or that there's something wrong if-" She blew out a frustrated breath. "Why is this so hard?"

Freddie covered the hand she'd twisted into his shirt and waited for her to look at him. "Let's make that rule six. No L-word pressure. If I say it, it's because I feel it and want you to know. I don't want you to say it because you think I want to hear it. I want you to say it when you feel it. Otherwise, in the end, it'll be worse than not hearing it at all."

"That helps, Freddie. Thanks." When he smiled at her, she grinned back then gave his shirt a little tug. "Well? Lean."

And he did.

**[A/N: I hope you all have enjoyed reading this story half as much as I've enjoyed writing it. This is the main conclusion to the story, but stay tuned for TWO epilogues. Thanks again for all the Seddie love in reviews, alerts and favorites. They mean the world!]**


	13. Epilogue I

_**Epilogue I**_

**Sam Puckett's Rules for Dating Freddie Benson**

**Rule 1: Always keep him guessing.**

"Dinner Friday?"

Sam closed her locker and looked at her boyfriend of three weeks and wondered again how exactly she and Freddie had ended up dating. "We'll see," she answered with a noncommittal shrug.

She could practically feel his confusion as they slowly started walking to class. "Do you have other plans? Is something up with Carly? Or your mom?" he asked, brows drawn.

She appreciated his concern, but just smirked at him. "Come on, Fredward, we've only been dating a few weeks. Do we really have to eat dinner together every Friday together?"

"We did almost every Friday _before_ we started dating," he pointed out, then shrugged. "If Friday's not good for you-" he began, but let out a little _oomph_ as Sam grabbed him by the collar and pinned him to the wall of the hallway.

"I never said anything about the day," she pointed out, then leaned up so her eyes were just below his, and purred, "I just complained about dinner. I'm sure we can come up with some other Friday activity instead."

**Rule 2: Never let him forget who's boss.**

At the Groovy Smoothie, Freddie and Sam were mildly annoying Carly and Gibby with their banter. Really, the two of them didn't understand why no one else seemed to find their back and forth charming. It was a building block of their relationship, and a natural outlet for the tension – or electricity, as Freddie liked to call it – that they couldn't burn off in mixed company.

"Guys!" Carly finally interrupted, slamming her Styrofoam cup down on the table surface. "Have you decided if you're going to the Homecoming game and dance this weekend?"

"Definitely," Freddie said while Sam answered with a typical, "Gross."

The two of them looked at each other, and their friends knew immediately that a battle line had been drawn. Carly and Gibby didn't even bother to stick around to witness the carnage; they just got up quietly and left.

"What do you mean 'definitely'?" Sam asked, a martial glint in her eye.

"What do you mean 'gross'? I thought we talked about this and agreed that we were going?" Freddie pushed his smoothie cup away from him.

Sam followed suit and rested her arms on the table. "Whoa, I don't think so."

"Yes, you did! It was at my house. My mom saw the flyer, and asked us about it at dinner, and you said, 'Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just leave the plate and go'." Freddie smirked a little.

"Oh, yeah," Sam said wistfully, "that was the night she made the meatloaf." She shook off the memories. "Well, whatever, I'm not going."

"C'mon, Sam! For me?" he tried, looking at her with sad eyes and a pouty lip.

She laughed. "Dude, you're not Carly and I'm not you circa three years ago. That doesn't work. Not going, case closed."

Freddie gave up and sulked for a bit, but as they went to leave, Sam took mercy on him and allowed him the small token of holding her hand as they walked back to the Bushwell.

They wound up watching kung fu movies all Homecoming night instead.

**Rule 3: If you do something wrong, act like it's no big deal.**

Returning to school after the holiday break was always a bummer, but Sam was looking forward to it this year. She'd had a cold beginning in the middle of December all the way through New Year's Eve, and Freddie's mom had forbidden Sam from coming in the apartment or Freddie from going to the Pucketts. That had made Carly's apartment the only place they could go to meet occasionally, but Sam had felt so lousy that they were only able to get together twice the entire break: once to exchange gifts and once while attending the Bushwell's New Year's party.

Now, back in school, Sam was practically jumping up and down waiting for her boyfriend to come in, although she strove to remain cool.

While Carly was laughing at Sam's anticipation, Sam was distracted enough not to notice Freddie until he'd snuck up behind her and lifted her up by the waist. Immediately, Sam began to fight back, but she quickly recognized her assailant as one Fredward Benson, and let the tension ease out of her limbs so she was dead weight in his arms. He set her down with a thud, and she immediately turned to lunge into his kiss. He held her off for a minute. "Germ-free," she claimed, understanding his hesitation, then wrapped her arms around his neck and let all of her excitement free.

After a lengthy kiss that embarrassed Carly enough that she made her excuses and bolted, Sam finally let go of Freddie's neck, but took his hand. "I've missed you," he admitted, then smirked. "And you've obviously missed me, too."

Sam shrugged but couldn't help but grin. "Well, I missed kissing at least. You're just the guy attached to the lips, in my opinion."

Freddie chuckled and started to talk, but frowned instead as he swiped his thumb over her hand. "Sam… where's your ring?"

Sam looked away and pulled her hand free of his. For Christmas, Freddie had given her a pretty silver ring with a little chip of amethyst in it. A promise ring, he'd called it, his promise to her that he'd uphold all the rules she'd set forth at the beginning, and Sam had reined in her panic at receiving a piece of jewelry so early in their relationship and managed to be grateful instead. Unfortunately, when she'd woken up New Year's Day at Carly's she'd noticed that the ring was not on her hand. She and Carly had spent the next few days tearing the apartment up to find it, to no avail.

"It's kind of temporarily… misplaced, Fredward. But don't worry," she brazened out. "I'll find it."

She kept walking, only to realize that Freddie was no longer beside her. Turning she paced back to where he was standing frozen in shock. "Sam…" he eked out. "Please tell me you're joking. I saved up for two months to buy that ring."

"C'mon, Freddie. Trust me, I'll find it. Carly's been helping me look-"

He pulled her to a stop again. "How long has it been missing?"

"Just since New Year's Day."

"_Just_ since New Year's? Just? Sam, that's four days. If you guys haven't found it yet, what makes you think you will?" He pushed a frustrated hand through his hair. "I can't believe you were so careless-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Freducation. It's not my fault that it slipped off my finger. And if I'm so _careless_, maybe you shouldn't have gotten me something so valuable!"

"Well, maybe I shouldn't have!" Freddie's vein was pulsing in his neck. Normally Sam loved that vein; knew that when she saw it, she was winning. She strangely didn't feel like she was winning right now.

Frustrated herself, Sam growled. "Well, I'll tell you what, when I find it, it's all yours."

Freddie looked dumbstruck for a moment, then he seemed to deflate a little. "That's not what I want, Sam. It was a gift to you, a promise." He shook his head. "After school, I'll help you guys look for it, and if nothing else, we can ask Spencer if he has a metal detector." He took her hand again, rubbing her hand comfortingly this time. "I'm sorry I got so upset. You're right, it's just a ring."

Now – _now_ – Sam felt the victory, and she smiled and kissed him again. "I forgive you. Let's get to class."

**Rule 4: If **_**he**_** does something wrong, make him pay – big time.**

Sam hadn't wanted to celebrate Valentine's Day. She'd told Freddie again and again how it was a fake holiday, it was meaningless, it was just like any other Wednesday and she didn't want to make a big deal about it.

And so – he didn't.

And then Sam was forced to realized… she hadn't actually _meant_ for him not to do _anything_. And she especially hadn't meant for him to volunteer to tutor Wendy in Calculus that night instead of spending it with her, his girlfriend. And she especially _especially _hadn't meant for him to basically ignore her all day.

So on the morning February 15, Sam was – to put it mildly – distressed to wake up and realize that her boyfriend had taken all of her rambling to heart, and they had actually not celebrated their first Valentine's Day as a couple.

Therefore, she decided that if he couldn't bring himself to defy her wishes and force Valentine's Day on her, she would retaliate by doing the same to him.

So she hardly spoke to him, and didn't make any mention of the non-Valentine's Day, and decided to finally follow through on her promise to Gibby to train him for a local community center wrestling league.

By lunch, Freddie's frustration was high. "What do you mean, you and Gibby are wrestling tonight? I don't think I want my girlfriend wrestling with Gibby Gibson. Or any guy for that matter," he clarified.

"Sorry, Frednub, I promised Gibby months ago that I'd help him, and I figured tonight was as good of a night as any."

"But it's Thursday! My mom always makes us a Sam-friendly dinner on Thursdays. I think she got out a pack of bacon this morning."

"A rasher," Sam corrected mindlessly, daydreams of bacon momentarily distracting her from her revenge. "You call a portion of bacon a rasher." She ruthlessly pushed that aside. "Nevertheless, I have plans so I guess you and your mom will have to eat the bacon without me." She was quite proud that she managed this bit without wavering at all.

That managed to shock Freddie into silent acquiescence throughout lunch and most of the afternoon. He was waiting for her at her locker when the final bell rang. When she started getting her stuff together to leave without acknowledging him, he raised an eyebrow. "Did I do something wrong, Sam? It feels like I'm being punished for something."

"Guilty conscience, Benson?" she smirked, slamming the locker shut. "See you tomorrow." And she walked out to meet Gibby, without waiting for Freddie and without kissing him goodbye, feeling proud.

But that night, Sam was feeling small for acting like such a – a _girl_ about the whole non-Valentine's day debacle. So she did the only thing she could think of: she called Carly.

"That's not like you," Carly admonished, and Sam felt even smaller. "Normally if something bugs you, you confront it, head on. You don't play passive aggressive games – you just get aggressive."

Sam groaned and fell back on her bed. "I know, Carls, that's why I feel bad now. I told Freddie not to do anything, so I shouldn't be mad that he didn't. But I can't help it! Freddie's usually so adamant about this kind of thing. Why didn't he make an issue out of it?"

Carly laughed. "I know this sounds crazy, but… why don't you ask him?"

Sam finished her conversation with Carly on autopilot, her friend's advice lodging in the back of her mind. After several hours mulling it over, she finally gave in and called Freddie, then realized that it was nearly midnight, and Freddie had gone to bed long ago. After several rings, though, he answered with a groggy, "Sam? What's wrong?"

In a rush, everything Sam had thought about all day poured out of her. She explained her disappointment and her petty revenge, and eventually got around to the question she'd asked Carly, "Why didn't you push me on it?"

She could hear Freddie's sigh loud and clear. "Honestly, Sam, it didn't seem like one of the big battles. We've got a lot of important stuff coming up over the next few months, and I figured I'd take my victories where they were most important: Prom, graduation parties, campus tours." He chuckled a little. "But I'll tell you what, next time you say something like that isn't important enough, I'll just follow my instincts and lavish you with gifts, and deal with the punishment. Is that good enough?"

Sam grinned. "Gifts _and _I get to punish you? That sounds like a good deal. Good night, Freddie." She hung up after he said good night and fell asleep smiling.

The next morning, a card and a single purple tulip were attached to the front of her locker, and Sam grinned again. And every year, instead of February 14, they celebrated February 16 instead.

**Rule 5: A little tenderness isn't a bad thing – but don't make it a habit.**

Their senior year had seemed to go by in a flash, and now it was nearing the end of April, and Prom was in the air. Sam hadn't put up too much of a fight about attending – mostly because she loved to see Freddie all dressed up. But also because she recognized that, even though she loved being in control, this was important enough to him that she was willing to make a sacrifice and don a dress.

She and Carly had spent long torturous hours in department stores, only to spend nearly the entire day in a beauty shop, just so they could go stand around in uncomfortable shoes, eat crappy food, and sway on a crowded dance floor with their dates. _It's important to Freddie, it's important to Freddie_. The thought had become Sam's mantra whenever the urge to complain became nearly unbearable.

But all of the embarrassment and hassle and dread were wiped away when Sam followed Carly down the stairs in the Shays' apartment and saw her boyfriend standing there, handsome in his tux with dark violet cummerbund and bowtie. His dark hair was extra shiny, and he was staring at her in a way probably similar to how she was staring at him. Happy, and hungry, and practically glowing with anticipation.

A warm feeling curled in the pit of her stomach, then fizzled through her midsection, catching Sam so off guard that she had to struggle to calm her breathing. Inhaling deeply through her nose, she finally made it down to where he stood, and stopped to brush out an invisible wrinkle on her pale lilac chiffon skirt. The bodice was strapless and made of the same crinkly lilac fabric, with a sweetheart neckline embellished with ribbon the same dark violet of Freddie's tie. For some ridiculous unknown reason, she actually felt nervous tonight, but then she felt Freddie's hand wrap around hers so he could put her corsage on her wrist. She looked up at him, and the warmth of his eyes, and the nerves faded away. And she knew that tonight was going to be perfect.

That feeling sustained Sam throughout the night. Through the lukewarm dinner, and the overheated dance floor; through the antiquated ritual of crowning of Queen (Carly) and King (Gibby…? Really, guys?); through the drunken ramblings of the football stars and the disappointment of their girlfriends when the night didn't quite turn out so perfect. But Sam and Freddie – their Prom was perfect. Because they had each other.

To escape the crowd, Sam led Freddie out onto the yard of the banquet hall, where she kicked off her pinching shoes, and danced with her boyfriend in the dewy grass.

"Are you glad you came?" Freddie asked as they swayed back and forth, not even paying attention to the tempo of the music being played by the DJ, just dancing to a song only they could hear.

Sam grinned up at him. "I know what you're fishing for. And because it's been such a good night, I'll say this one time only: Fredward Benson, you were right. This has been fun."

He returned her grin, then spun her quickly, several times, making her laugh. "If I wasn't already going to remember this night forever, I will now."

Clutching his jacket in dizziness, Sam tipped her head back, feeling the last remaining bobby pins holding her up-do spill out, and her hair fall free. "I love you, Freddie," she gasped out between laughs. As it sunk it what she had said and she felt his stillness, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in closer. "That's been a long time coming, but I really do. I love you, Freddie."

She felt his grin as he leaned in closer and met her lips with his. "I know, Sam. And I love you."

As they gently kissed, the sounds of drunken laughter didn't register in their minds, until the lawn sprinkler system was activated, and they were hit with a cold stream of water. Laughing, Sam pulled back, then dropped Freddie's hand and led him on a chase through the mystical night landscape, her pale dress beckoning him like a lighthouse through the mist.


	14. Epilogue II

_**Epilogue II**_

**Carly's Rules For Being The Best Friend Of The Weirdest Couple In History**

**Rule 1: Don't try to understand why their insults are actually endearments.**

Carly blew out an exasperated breath as she heard her two best friends squabbling a few places ahead of her in the line as they waited to graduate from Ridgeway High. She had hoped (dreamed, prayed) that the arguing would cease once Freddie and Sam began dating. It hadn't. If anything, the two viewed it as some kind of cute bantering, blissfully unaware how annoying it was to everyone else.

"Nub!" Sam shot at her boyfriend, shaking her head, hands on her hips.

"Blonde-headed demon!" Freddie folded his arms, and smirked. "You know I'm right about this!"

"Nyeh!"

As Carly stepped out of line to settle it, the band struck up the first notes of "Pomp and Circumstance", leaving her little more time than to walk over, flick her friends in the foreheads, then quickly rejoin the line.

Just before Freddie and Sam took their turn to walk out, Freddie leaned over and kissed the spot Carly had flicked on Sam's forehead, then laughed when Sam quietly said something to him and grinned.

Carly smiled and shook her head. She'd never understand those two.

**Rule 2: Don't get between the two of them in any situation. **

The first few months of college had been rough – rougher than Carly had anticipated. It wasn't the classes; it was being away from Spencer, from Sam who had stayed in Seattle, and from Freddie who was in Boston. Berkley was a great school, and Carly didn't regret attending, but by the time Thanksgiving rolled around, she was more than ready to come home for a few days.

Sam was there to greet her when she walked into the Bushwell with Spencer, and there was much screaming (some by them, some by Lewbert) and hugging, and Carly felt all the loneliness of school melt away. Even though she'd been able to video chat with her friends, nothing filled the void like Spencer's glue-and-paint odor and the way Sam always seemed to smell slightly of ham and Freddie's antibacterial cloud that always… seemed… to precede…

As Carly smelled it, she knew Sam did, too. Sam dropped her arm from Carly's and sharply turned her head towards the door, sensing her boyfriend like a wild animal would sense its mate. "Freddie," Sam nearly whispered it, her voice all breathy. Carly wasn't even sure that Sam was aware she said it out loud.

The front door of the Bushwell's lobby opened and Carly saw Mrs. Benson first, beaming proudly, then Freddie was there filling up the doorway. "Freddie!" Sam said it louder this time, and Carly knew that if she commented on it, she'd just embarrass Sam, who didn't like to show emotion.

Then all of a sudden, a blonde tidal wave knocked Carly into Spencer, who fell back against Carly's bags and went tumbling to the ground. Before Carly knew it, Sam had launched herself at Freddie, who wisely took the time to brace himself and drop his own luggage so he could catch his airborne girlfriend.

Sam linked her legs around Freddie's waist and immediately the two became attached at the lips in a way that was cute at first, then gradually grew nauseating, and quickly passed nauseating on the way to gross. Carly looked over at Mrs. Benson, who seemed just this side of pained keening, and then helped Spencer up. "We might as well go up, and leave them alone for a few minutes," Carly offered, trying to avoid looking at her two friends full-on making out in the middle of the lobby. It was nearly impossible, like ignoring a car crash on the side of the road, but Carly shook herself out of it and led the two adults to the elevator.

Two hours later, Sam and Freddie finally joined them in the Shays' apartment.

**Rule 3: Don't take sides.**

The time between Christmas and Spring Break flew, and before Carly knew it, she, Sam and Freddie were chilling on the beaches of Cancun, enjoying their first official college spring break.

At least, Carly was _trying_ to enjoy it, but the two crazies she insisted on calling her friends were making it _very difficult_.

"It was just a little harmless flirting! Nothing was going to come of it. C'mon, you know I love you."

Freddie shook his head, hurt radiating from him. "I don't understand why you'd even think that was okay, Sam. Especially when I was standing _right there_!"

It had been Carly's idea to come to Cancun, and they'd been fortunate enough that Socko's travel agent had been able to find them a discount, enabling all three of them to be able to go. And this time, Spencer had made sure there would be no animals on the flight and that the plane was actually going to land. All in all, it had been one of the better international trips they'd taken.

Until, that is, they'd checked into their hotel and the young, buff bellboy had gotten it into his head that Sam was the girl of his dreams. For kicks, Sam had played into it, leaving Freddie furious and hurt and angry. And, yes, maybe Freddie had gone too far by blatantly telling the other man that he and Sam would be sharing a room, so he could put their bags together. And maybe it was also not helpful when Sam carried Freddie's bag out of their room and dropped it in the common room of the suite and said she'd sleep with who she'd like, and it was none of his business. And then to make matters worse, Freddie had done the one thing guaranteed to make Sam see red: he picked her up and carried her into the room and slammed the door closed, leaving a mortified Carly to tip the very confused bellboy and show him out.

An hour of shouting later, Carly had finally lured them out for dinner on the terrace. They'd been sitting in awkward silence after ordering, until Sam had tried one more time to make Freddie listen. He stood up, and started walking away.

Carly half stood to call after him. "Where are you going?" Freddie waved her off and kept walking across the beach.

Sam groaned. "Why does he have to be such a- such a… _girl_ about this? I'm sure he flirts with girls when I'm not around."

"I think," Carly pointed out, "the key part of that is 'when you're not around'. He had to stand there and watch it."

"So what?" Sam reasoned with a shrug. "He should know it means nothing. We've been together for almost two years, and no matter what I say to another guy, he knows that it's just him for me."

Carly looked at Sam appraisingly. "Maybe he doesn't know that. Maybe he's insecure about your relationship. You should talk to him about this."

Sam snorted, then threw her cloth napkin on the table. "I should've known you'd take his side," she said, before walking back into the hotel.

Aggravated beyond belief, Carly nearly followed her, but decided to go work on the reasonable half of the duo. She found Freddie at the water's edge. He smiled sadly at her as she stopped next to him. "It was so much easier when I thought I loved you," he began without waiting to see why she'd followed him. "You weren't interested, and it was fact, and I could handle it. Being with Sam is so- and she's so- and I just love her so much. I can't help but think some day, some guy is going to realize how awesome she is, and I'll lose her, because I am so out of her league."

"Freddie," Carly began tentatively, touched by his vulnerability, "have you told her all of this? Sam's a pretty confident person, but if you talk to her, I'm sure she'll understand. After all, one of the reasons she tried so hard _not_ to date you was because she felt she was beneath you. She probably has no idea that you're this uncertain of your relationship after all this time."

Freddie scoffed. "And give her more proof that she's too good for me? No way." He shuffled his feet through the sand. "Sam is it for me, and it'd kill me to find out she doesn't feel the same way."

"Did you ever think that the reason she feels so comfortable flirting with other guys like that is because of you? Because you made her feel confident and safe? Because she knows that nothing like that could ever ruin what you guys have?"

Freddie turned to Carly in disgust. "Don't try to make excuses for her, Carly. She's in the wrong here." He shook his head. "I should've known you'd take her side. Women," he spat out, turning back towards the hotel.

Frustrated with them both, Carly went back and finished her dinner herself, uncaring whether it was weird for a single woman to be sitting in the sunset on a terrace in Cancun with a table full of entrees. After eating as much as she could stand, she had the waiter box the rest up, then reluctantly went back into their suite.

She was expecting broken glass and toppled furniture and screaming and tears, but what she saw instead were Freddie and Sam, tumbled together on the couch, fast asleep, spooning, and smiling.

**Rule 4: When either the fighting or the making up gets too involved, just walk out of the room.**

"Freddie wants me to move to Chicago with him," Sam blurted out the instant Carly accepted her video chat request.

Carly was just finishing packing up her dorm room for the last time before graduating from Berkley, but this brought her back to the computer in a snap. "What? Freddie's moving to Chicago? I thought he was staying in Boston."

Sam looked around her hotel room in Boston, the one she was reluctantly sharing with Mrs. Benson while they were both in town for Freddie's graduation from MIT. "He got a job offer in Chicago, a good one that doesn't even compare to the offer the college made him." Sam shook her head, and Carly could see how freaked out she was. She'd never seen so much of the whites of Sam's eyes before. "I could've handled Boston; I've actually grown to like it over the trips I've made these last four years, but-" Sam turned her head, and Carly could faintly hear someone knocking. "I'll be right back."

Within a minute, Carly could hear Freddie's voice with Sam's, each one getting more strident. Obviously Mrs. Benson had tipped Freddie off to Sam's reluctance to move to Chicago. Carly felt bad for eavesdropping on their private conversation, but didn't know how to get their attention to let them know she was still connected. When the voices raised even louder, and she heard Freddie's indignant cry of, "Ow!" Carly tried to get their attention. The fighting just continued, so Carly guiltily minimized the screen and started packing again to the soundtrack of Sam and Freddie's argument. After all, they would probably tell her all about it later anyway.

After a few minutes, however, the fighting subsided and their voices turned more into murmurs. Carly sighed in relief and went over to check on her friends, only to shriek when she pulled the screen back up and saw Freddie and Sam – horizontal - on the couch in front of her. She took a moment to wonder how they hadn't fogged up the video cam, before sighing. "C'mon, guys! I'm still here!" That got no response, and Carly could see where this was heading, so she just closed the chat and tried to see if she had any bleach she could use on her brain.

**Rule 5: If all else fails, remind one – or both – of them how lucky they are to have each other.**

Carly was looking forward to spending Christmas in Chicago. She didn't know why, honestly, since Christmas in New York City was perfectly lovely, and she'd enjoyed everyone one of the four she'd spent there so far. This year, she had a feeling it had more to do with her friends than the landscape.

Spencer and Mrs. Benson were coming on the same flight from Seattle, so Carly had waited around Midway after grabbing her luggage so she could welcome them. After the hugging and greetings were exchanged, they rented a car and made their way over to Freddie and Sam's apartment on the North Side. The building actually sort of resembled the Bushwell, sans annoying doorman of course, but Carly immediately felt at home. Freddie welcomed them as soon as the elevator doors opened on the ninth floor, and Sam joined the fray the instant the group crossed the threshold.

After dinner and while Mrs. B, Spencer and Sam cleaned up after dinner (Sam! cleaning! Freddie was a miracle worker) Freddie gave Carly the full tour of their spacious three bedroom apartment. "This is great," Carly said while she opened and closed the closet door of the third bedroom. "I'm so proud of you guys, making it work in a new city. Can you believe you've been together eight years? We're getting so old!"

Freddie smiled nervously. "That's actually kind of why I wanted to talk to you." He opened the empty closet back up then reached to the very back of the shelf and pulled out a small velvet box, snapping it open. "What do you think?"

Carly looked down at the ring, and wondered inanely why she was so surprised. Freddie and Sam were a constant in her life; them getting married made sense, but she'd never even thought about it. "Wow," she croaked, then cleared her throat, and said it again. "Wow. Freddie, this is beautiful! Is this why you wanted us all to come here for Christmas?"

He chuckled. "Yeah. And don't tell Sam, but Mel and Mrs. P are going to be here for Christmas morning."

"Oh, I'm so happy for you guys!" Carly pulled Freddie into a hug and tried her hardest not to cry.

They jumped apart when Sam called down the hall, "Hey, guys, you stay in there any longer and Mama's going to start getting suspicious."

Laughing nervously, Freddie returned the ring to its hiding spot while Carly dabbed a few stubborn tears away.

They all settled in around the open living room, Carly and Spencer joking around, while Sam and Freddie held hands and argued over the last piece of pie, and Mrs. Benson poured them all some coffee.

"Fredward, this apartment is just perfect for children. I can't wait until you fill up the empty bedrooms and I have grandchildren!"

Silence dropped on the group like a canopy. "What?" Sam exclaimed first, while Freddie gave his mother a pained look. "Mom!"

Marissa looked shocked by their outburst. "Samantha, you're 26 now. You need to be thinking about this before your eggs go bad." Spencer pulled a face and spit out his last bite of pie, shoving the plate as far away as it could go on the coffee table.

Freddie's face turned bright red. "Mother, this is not a conversation to be had tonight. When Sam and I are ready for kids, we'll know."

"_Ready_ for kids?" Sam looked at her boyfriend like she had never seen him before. "What could've possibly given you the idea I'd ever be 'ready' for kids?"

Freddie looked nonplussed. "You love kids! Why wouldn't I expect to have children with the woman I love?"

Carly looked at her brother, and slapped his knee. "Well, I think that's our cue to go to our hotel. C'mon, Spence."

"But- I want to- I never get- Fine!" He finally agreed when he saw that Carly was serious about staying out of it. Sam, Freddie, and Mrs. B issued a détente for the night, and Carly and Sam made plans to shop the Magnificent Mile the next morning.

It was after their second hour of shopping that Carly realized perhaps shopping on Christmas Eve was not a good idea. Especially when Sam looked tired and surly and irritated with the world in general. "Long night?" Carly asked as they took a break and parked themselves on some seats outside of a changing area in Macy's.

"Freddie wouldn't let it go!" Sam shrugged bad-temperedly and snarled at a passing patron. "I guess he doesn't understand that it's my body, my eggs, and my choice whether or not I want to lug around fifty extra pounds for nine months."

Carly blew out a breath. "Are you telling me in eight years this seriously has never come up before?"

"Once or twice, but we'd always just shove it away to think about some other day." Sam grimaced. "For some reason, he's really intent on seeing it through this time."

Carly thought about the ring and squirmed in guilty silence, then finally blurted out, "Maybe… his biological clock is ticking?"

Frowning, Sam considered this. "It could be."

"Do you really not want kids with Freddie?"

"I don't know!" Sam got up to pace. "I hardly even consider myself as not being a kid. How can I think about raising someone else? Feeding, clothing, educating, and it's all I can think of! All I've been able to think about since-" Suddenly she stopped and dropped back into her seat.

Carly's ears perked up. "Since…?"

"Since," Sam said with a sigh, "I realized that I'm three weeks late."

Stunned, Carly sat back in her chair, and just stared at Sam in awe. Honestly, if she'd had known holidays around Sam and Freddie were so exciting, she'd have been doing this for years. "Wow," she murmured. "Have you been to a doctor yet?"

Sam groaned. "No, I just keep waking up every morning, hoping that today will be the day that I get proved wrong. No such luck." She smiled grimly. "So much for it being my choice, right?"

Carly glanced down at her hands, then back up at her best friend. "That changes the question I asked earlier. Instead of some distant future kids, I have to ask: do you want _this baby_ with Freddie? Don't think, just answer."

"Yes," Sam whispered. "Yes, I want the baby, but I'm so scared! My mom – let's face it, she tried the last few years I was home, too little, too late – but she wasn't the best role model. Freddie's mom is different but hardly any better."

Carly thought about that for a moment. "Do you know what the difference is, Sam? Neither your mom nor Freddie's mom had a partner to turn to, to balance them out. You have Freddie, and Freddie has you. Together, you complement each other, and together, you will be awesome parents."

Sam was quiet. Carly could practically see the wheels spinning in her head. "You may have a point there, Shay." Then she grinned. "Fredward's going to flip his lid when I tell him."

"Maybe… maybe you should be sure before you tell him. Why don't you see if your doctor can squeeze you in for a quick Christmas visit, so you can give Freddie the best gift ever."

Sam nodded and pulled her phone out, dialing the number from memory. It was clear to Carly that Sam had nearly called several times in the past three weeks.

Carly dropped Sam off at the office, then made her way back to Freddie and Sam's apartment to hide her present for Spencer. Just as the elevator door started to close, she heard "Hold the door!" and immediately held her hand out to activate the door's safety feature.

A tall man in his early thirties with glasses and mussed dark blond hair nodded at her. "Thanks."

Attraction hit Carly in the midsection as she took in his green eyes and serious demeanor. "No problem. What floor?" she asked breathily.

It turned out that Hunter – that was his name – was a neighbor to Freddie and Sam. He'd just moved to Chicago from Washington, D.C., and was a medical resident at Loyola hospital. By the time they hit the ninth floor, Carly was smitten, and seriously considering throwing everything aside to come live across the hall and moon after him. Outside his door, as she was getting up the courage to ask him to Christmas dinner, Freddie opened the door behind her.

"Hey, Hunter. Carly! I thought I heard your voice." He frowned and looked after her. "Where's Sam?"

Suddenly the drama of the previous night and this morning smacked Carly in the face again. "She had something to take care of. I came to hide Spencer's gift, if that's okay, and then I'll go pick her up."

"And Spencer is…" Hunter inquired politely, and Carly could feel her face turn red as Freddie watched them appraisingly.

"My brother!" she blurted out. "Older brother, he's an artist, a sculptor actually, and he's nuts."

She could tell that Freddie was struggling to keep a straight face. "That's fine, Carly. Go on in. So, Hunter, do you have plans for Christmas day?"

Carly strove to remain calm as Freddie joined her in the apartment, but threw that out the window almost as soon as he closed the door. "So? Is he coming?"

Freddie finally gave in to the laughter. "Yes, he said he'd love to. But Carly, you do know you're going back to New York in two days, right? Sam and I will still have to live across the hall from him."

"I know, I know," she answered with a pout. "I'll take it easy." Shaking off her own concerns, she took in Freddie's haggard appearance and knew he'd been worrying all day. "What's up?"

Sitting beside her, he shook his head. "This whole baby thing has me all shaken up. If Sam and I have this big difference between us, how can we ever make a marriage work?"

Carly laid her hand on his. "Freddie, you and Sam belong together. I don't think the problem is as big as you think it is. Yes," she stopped him before he could interrupt, "it seems important, but I think if you consider it enough, you'll see it's just Sam's nerves getting the best of her. She does love kids, and she loves you, but her mom has always been her biggest chink, and Sam has done everything she can to make sure she never ends up like her."

"And she's not."

"No, she's not," Carly agreed. "And you're a big reason why not. And as you guys get married and have kids and grandkids, you'll just have to remind her every so often that you're here for her, that you love her, and that together you guys are an amazing team."

Freddie slung an arm around Carly's shoulders. "The two best things that ever happened to me were falling in love with you and falling out of love with you."

"Um, thanks?" Carly said with a laugh and put a companionable arm around Freddie as well.

That night they all decided to have a huge sleepover at Freddie and Sam's, so they could all be together first thing Christmas morning. Before everyone else woke up, Carly got the text she'd been waiting for, crept over to the door and snuck Pam and Melanie into the apartment and helped them hide in the kitchen. Everyone but Sam was in on the surprise, but only Carly was in on Sam's little surprise.

The other two Puckett women lasted longer than Carly would've anticipated before pouncing on an unsuspecting Sam as Mrs. Benson started passing out presents. Sam shrieked then hugged her sister and mother, both of whom she'd grown much closer to over the last few years.

As they reached the end of the pile of gifts, Freddie excused himself to go get his for Sam, and Sam took the opportunity to go get hers for Freddie and his mother. They exchanged in front of the Christmas tree, each one of them telling the other to go first. Carly finally stood up. "Okay! On the count of three, both of you open your gifts. One, two, thr-"

Before she could get the whole word out, Sam and Freddie ripped the wrapping open. Sam looked stunned as she slowly began to realize what it was. Snapping open the box, she looked from the ring to Freddie, then back to the ring.

"Will you-" Freddie didn't get a chance to ask, as Sam cried "Yesss!" and kissed him enthusiastically. With a shaking hand, Freddie pulled the ring free and slid it on Sam's hand.

It was then that Sam noticed he hadn't opened her gift all the way. "Finish!" she commanded, kissing him again. "You, too, Mrs. Benson."

Mother and son looked at each other in confusion, then finished opening each of their gifts. Freddie's mother caught on much faster than her son when she pulled a "best grandma in the world" shirt out.

Freddie stared down at the box in his hand for a few long minutes, then finally pulled out the tiny white onesie with "Daddy's Little Angel" embroidered on it. His hands were shaking twice as hard as he held it up, then he gave a bark of laughter as he pulled an identical red onesie out that read "Daddy's Little Devil". Shaking his head, Freddie pulled Sam in for a gentle hug, and through her tears, Carly could see him whisper something to Sam. His fiancée slapped at him, then started crying. Happy tears, Carly was relieved to see. Happy tears for a happy, happy Christmas.

There was a knock at the door, and Carly excused herself, swiping at her eyes. Beaming she opened the door. "Merry Christmas," she sang out, fumbling a little as she recognized Hunter.

"Merry Christmas, Carly," he said with a quirky smile, then pointed up to the mistletoe hung over the door. "It must be fate."

Carly looked up bemusedly then grinned at him again. "It must be."


End file.
